Kaleidoscopes
by Kaekiro
Summary: A collection of stories that will follow Eren and Mikasa through various AUs.
1. Fragmented Quiescence

**Hello! So, I realize that I've been AWOL from this site for about two years, and that's because I discovered AO3. About two months after I published the last chapter of Numinous, I started a collection on AO3 and have been there ever since. But after seeing almost all my writer friends post their content on both sites, I decided to come back and post what I've written these past two years on here! This is not all of the chapters from AO3, as some are either explicit or just cringy even for me. But, if you would like to read them, they are on AO3 under the same fic title :)**

 **Most of these are requests I've received from Tumblr, though a few of them were the products of what little inspiration I have lol. Before each chapter, I will write out if what follows is a request and, if so, what it was. These will be posted in the order they were written.**

 **The chapter below is something I wrote for Eremika fluff week back in 2016. Thank you for reading!**

* * *

Light, unsteady shakes of the mattress and the soft rustle of linen stir Eren into consciousness. Somnolent jades crack open and when she comes into view, he frowns at the sight. Her back is to him; smooth, muscular frame uncovered and curled into the familiar fetal position.

This makes him worry somehow. He has become so accustomed to her near him when they sleep, even more so during their first years together that a little part of him worries when she turns away to distance herself. Eren shifts closer to his fiancée and throws their thin sheets over the bony point of her shoulder. He moves his arm with care, wrapping it gently around the toned dip of her waist, and it's then that she turns around to curl up to him.

Her eyes don't open as he anticipates but instead, his eyes follow her pupils as they slide carefully, drowsily beneath their lids. A few ebony locks drape across the delicate features of her face when she rolls over, making her nuzzle her deeper into the cotton pillow and Eren can't help but smile as she wrinkles her tiny nose in discomfort. Her hair has grown a generous amount in the past few years and he realizes how much he's missed the way it frames the almond shape of her face, admires it even. It's a bit comical to think of why he suggested she cut it. All because he was a moody, capricious preteen who didn't take kindly to Jean's innocent complement during their early trainee days. His fingers slide beneath the unruly bangs and push the soft tresses behind the flexible shell of her ear, inky strands spilling along the side of her throat and onto the bed. The tips of his fingers don't stop there; They circle the edge of her jaw and continue along the slope of it, reaching up to trace the lined scar.

The tissue has long healed, but he hasn't.

Not entirely.

Though she has verbally forgiven him time and time again, he can never truly extenuate himself for the wrongs he had done her during their youth. And the defined line beneath long lashes serves as his biggest reminder.

Taunting him with every unintentional glance.

 _You almost killed her._

 _Almost_ is the thread that tied her to this world. The invisible borderline that separated her life from death. A death that undoubtedly would've been his undoing.

 _Almost_ is what haunts him the most.

Deep breaths through her nostrils draw him out of his darker thoughts, troubled eyes fixating on their brighter reality. Her eyes remain closed as her hand lifts to cover his own and his soften when she gives his palm a tired squeeze. He inhales softly as to not rouse her and focuses on the warm texture of her gold ring against his knuckle. The diamond sitting snuggly atop her finger never seizes to make his heart flutter with excitement and avidity. She is going to be his. And he can't wait to finally be hers. The thought alone is inspiriting and heartening.

 _I'm the lucky one._

He doesn't realize he's murmured his thoughts till she shifts again and he holds his breath, waiting for her to respond, almost apologizing for disturbing her -

Almost _._

Her voice never comes.

His breath releases into the tiny gap between them, apologies dissipating along with it and his fingers resume their tender ministrations.

It's hardly fathomable to think that long ago he vowed they'd be together for the rest of their lives. That in their dire situation he promised her eternity as he courageously shielded her from the merciless hands of death. And in just weeks, they will make it an _official_ vow.

Getting the ring was probably the most tedious thing he has ever done. He never really entertained the prospect of marriage until the months following their victory. It became more prominent as they shared many moments together after the reclamation (and ultimately the destruction) of Wall Maria. The times spent alone together, feelings shared through lingering touches and a few stolen kisses behind trees, in open fields, and once in the rain. They began sleeping in each other's rooms every other night. It started as something accidental, but neither minded and it gradually it became something innocent, natural, and a bittersweetly nostalgic between them. He woke up next to her one morning, so warm and soft she was. Not even the brightness of the rising sun could outshine the smile she had blessed him with and it was then that he knew: _she's the only one I could ever see._

He knows Mikasa like the back of his scarred hand - ridges and curves, her likes and dislikes - but he was a bit foggy when it came to her tastes. She's never cared for anything… flashy, but he wasn't going to be cheap either. Armin had offered to accompany him, but Eren insisted on doing it on his own. It was more special to pick it out himself and to be helped would take some of that away. So that's what he did. It took a couple days, a few lame excuses, hundreds of questions and a tired salesman, but he made a final choice. Weeks began to pass and he had tried to think of every possible way to ask her, ultimately dissatisfied with his lack of creativity.

Until an idea struck him (Sasha helped with that one). Only it accidentally slipped out and, as luck would have it, in the worst way possible.

With a flushed face, he had explained to Historia about his little "plan" and felt more comfortable practicing his "will you marry me" speech with her. Evidently, Mikasa had walked in on them, gawking at the two when she saw a blushing Eren down on one knee, ring in one hand and Historia's small palm in the other. Even her majesty didn't know what to do, didn't know if she should even _say_ anything as the three stared at one another.

Silence.

Mikasa closed her mouth, beginning to blink furiously, voice wavering, "Hanji is looking for you Eren," she turned her back to them, arm raising and swiping at her face, "I'll just tell her you're busy." She starting walking out, a _sorry for interrupting_ echoing through the hall as she did. Like the idiot he was, he remained there, kneeling, unblinking and body grounded, letting the situation sink in before Historia's nudge made him stumble and he followed right after, tucking the ring messily into its box as he rushed apologies out to the petite blonde. But as he made a clumsy turn around the corner, she had already disappeared.

He called for her. Searched and asked and searched and asked around because he desperately needed to tell her that it was a misunderstanding, to come back, that it's _her_ he wants. But not even the ever so clever Armin could locate her. His anxiety and unsteadiness grew with each aching hour he spent pacing around the cabin until finally the hinges of the door groaned with friction.

His heart throbbed as he looked into her red eyes, cheeks blotched with salty tears that _he_ had unintentionally caused. When she finally meet his eyes, she sniffled through a watery smile and she _congratulated_ him. And he _snapped_. She tried to avoid him - she really did _-_ but what Mikasa didn't know was that her emotions had hit him second-hand just by looking at her face alone. He practically dragged her outside, cuffed her wrist with his hand and rambled along the edge of the forest, ignoring her feeble questions as they continued aimlessly. Before long, they made it to a small clearing, away from their nosy, bound-to-be-intrusive squad mates.

Trees and newly budded flowers gave witness as he _tried_ to untangle the mess his lack of discreteness caused. But his truculent side seeped out and his tone became more disgruntled than he had intended. He did almost the complete opposite of what he wanted to do -

 _Almost_.

He had kissed her.

Pinned her gingerly against the rough bark, silenced the growing volume in her voice and felt the softness of her mouth with his own chapped one, blood heating the surface of his skin as cool air breezed around them. He poured out his passion for her with every swipe of their lips, felt her tense muscles relax in his grip. During those moments, Eren wondered how something he previously thought trivial could make him feel so unusually light-headed, feel something bigger than he is. How warmth spread on the inside and goosebumps out, and how her sigh flittering along his cheek breathed _so much_ life into him. Forehead against forehead, he finished with a kiss at the corner of her mouth, quietly reiterated his promises he had formerly made to her with tangled fingers at their sides. Each silent second that passed filled his mind with apprehension at what he had done, unsure if this was too sudden, given his predicament with her. Perhaps she was as shocked as he. His heart continued to race painfully as he repeated the question that was initially meant for her, skipping a couple beats when a breathless _yes_ fell from her kiss-swollen lips.

Those same lips are parted slightly, small puffs of air escaping and ghosting over the bottom of his palm and along the inside of his wrist. Her grip over it became slack sometime during his reminiscence and all he can do is stare as grey pupils continue their lidded, tenuous movement. He often wonders what she dreams about. If it's past memories or a desired future. If it's him she's dreaming of.

His eyes roam over what his fingers cannot. They trace the blue tint of moonlight that shines over her fair skin and adds luster to raven locks, making her glow in the most enchanting of ways. Watches the steady rise and fall of her body, becoming more enthralled with each breath. Her subtle shiver at the autumn breeze flowing through their bedroom. He moves even closer and pulls the blanket to her chin, resting his calloused palm against her face to move his fingers behind her head, cradling the base of her skull as nails begin trail along her scalp.

The supple skin of her lips press together lightly and she moves her head along with the slow movement of stubby nails, face relaxing impossibly more.

Then his heart feels what his skin cannot.

Since the extinction of the titans, he's come to realize three important things about the sleeping woman before him:

Her presence in his life has heavily influenced and motivated him during their seemingly endless journey. No one else can implement and elicit feelings of comfort and security that specifically pertain to her. And most of all, how damn lucky he is to have her here, now and (hopefully) forever.

In this world's sickening twist of Russian roulette, she was his luck that kept him alive. Time and time again she has saved him, encouraged him, protected him, loved him. He knows now that he would be dead a hundred times over if it wasn't for her. He's also aware that he's too prideful or, in Jean's words, too "egotistical" to admit it. One day, he tells himself. One day he will tell her about these revelations and pray to whatever deity there is that he will overcome his embarrassment and _really_ tell her.

The light streaming through translucent curtains collides and bounces off the many edges and surfaces of the rock. The iridescent rays cast everywhere, particularly on her hair and they are like twinkling stars illumined against the midnight hue.

She embodies the universe in which his world was crafted from. The soft texture of moon-kissed skin along the curvature of her neck his haven. Her smaller body has helped shoulder the weight of his pain and ambitions. Her even smaller hands have picked up the broken pieces of his undeserving soul and made… no, _make_ him whole. Astral orbs reflect what he can never verbally express. And he finds no need to. She understands every action, every look, every gesture and only asks for his company in return.

Now, he's more than willing to give that and fill her until he is empty and wasted and even then, he will promise to continue making his wrongs right and to carefully kiss where he has impulsively inflicted pain. It's what she deserves, and rightly so.

Because she is an oasis surrounded by scorching fields of sand.

Because she is a red rose amidst charcoal thorns and withered weeds.

Because her eyes have fluttered open, unfocused one moment, then shining with blithe inquisition when they meet his stare and _God_ he is a fool for her.

"Sorry." He can feel color rushing to his cheeks, casting away cheesy and embarrassing thoughts, averting his gaze to her defined collarbone before emeralds timidly looked back into greys.

Long lashed eyes bat once, then twice. "Why?"

He clears his throat and opts not to answer, tentatively placing his thumb on her brow to outline the perfect arch of it.

" _Sleep,_ " he urges, fingers carding through her hair to run his nails along it once more, an action he's (just) learned to soothe her.

Eren is proven right when her eyes begin to flutter in response and before she concedes, she tangles herself around him and he welcomes it, her natural lavender fragrance his melatonin.

And soon, it'll be her turn to watch as the other becomes immersed in the realms of sleep. To touch, to stare, to feel and to whisper:

 _I'm the lucky one._


	2. Reticent

**This s a request from anon for Eren wanting some alone time with Mikasa :) I gave it a little genre twist, if that makes sense lol. Thanks for reading!**

 **Warning: Starving oneself?**

* * *

Mikasa once heard her mother say that mirrors can never lie. As a child, she knew it was physically obvious, but as greys stare back at her, she can only question if that's really true.

Her only source of light flickers wildly as she twists her torso, making the dim candlelight bounce off the toned curves of her body. Her gaze hardens as it declines over the define ridges and contours of her abdomen, across the lining of muscle along her arms, her legs. She knows that her physique is the result from years of vigorous training.

But.

She also knows Eren isn't a liar. He's always been rather forthright with her. Apathetically so.

Why then...

Mikasa turns this way and that, scrutinizing herself and suddenly she realizes that she's never spent more than 3 minutes in front of a mirror before. And maybe it should've stayed that way, because something she had suppressed for so long begins to creep it's way back into her mind, settling and wrapping itself around like a weed. With everything going on, she hasn't the time or the space to start worrying about her looks, how others see her.

But even with that mentality, she can't help but visibly cringe at the sight of her brawny, more masculine figure. She doesn't recall seeing any other of her female comrades with such… bulkiness. Each coming minute brings new flaws she's never noticed, or maybe just never looked long enough to notice. The flame reveals them, one after the other, making her feel less feminine and more like a worn machine. Sturdy yet blemished with nicks and scars she doesn't remember getting.

Her stomach growls painfully and she sighs, reaching for her night shirt. She isn't sure how much longer she can keep this up. _If_ she should keep this up.

She pulls her arms through dinged sleeves and steals one last look at the cheval glass with a sniffle. She turns away distastefully, leaning over and blowing out the dying flame.

~•~

"Where's Mikasa?"

Eren looks up from his bowl, glancing around the room before shrugging his shoulders, "I'm not sure. I haven't seen her today."

"She hasn't been coming to eat lately," Armin frowns, "has she been busy?"

Another shrug.

"... Did you say something to her?"

Eren swallows his bread too soon, the chunk sliding dryly down his throat. "What makes you think I said something?" he coughs defensively, raising the wooden cup to his mouth.

"Your seemingly unconcerned response. And between the two of us, it's always you who makes her upset."

Eren huffs, propping his cheek against his palm as he continues playing with the loaf. "Well..."

"Well?" This earns Armin a sage glare before those same eyes downcast.

"I think I might've… insulted her. Maybe."

Armin blinks. "How so?"

Eren's silence lingers at the simple question as he twirls old silverware between his fingers, lips twisting into a weak grimace. Armin opens his mouth, another question forming on his tongue when Eren finally spits it out. "I kinda called her fat cause when we're training we had to do that wounded soldier simulation and there was no way in hell she was going to carry me again so I put her on my shoulders an -"

"Wait wait," Armin interrupts, dropping his spoon, "you called her _fat_?"

Eren slouches dramatically, nails opting to pick at splinted wood. He knew Armin would react this way. "Not fat, more like… _heavy_."

Armin looks to Eren, dull and straight-faced before slapping a hand against his forehead. He deliberately drags it down the side of his face, pulling down his lower lid.

"Eren..."

"She was!" He shoots back prickly, "Seriously, for someone as athletic as her, you'd think -"

"That's why she isn't here," Armin heaves. "Why she hasn't been coming here."

There's pause in their exchange and Eren glances around the room quizzically, _obliviously_. "Why?"

Their gazes meet. "She's purposely not eating." Eren stares still and Armin waits.

"You think… she's starving herself?" Tan features scrunch and he shakes his head vigorously, stabbing his fork into the steamed potato. "No," he says, "I don't think Mikasa would do something like that. Especially at a time like this."

"Think about it, Eren. Mikasa is a _girl_. Which means that at some point she's going to feel self-conscious about the way she looks," Armin reasons, taking a mouthful of food. "An I think ya push her in tha direction."

Eren tsks, fingers pressing into his temple. "Well she shouldn't feel like that. Mikasa looks perfect." Armin chokes a little, small fist pounding lightly at his chest as he tries and _fails_ to force the corners of his mouth down. Erem catches on soon enough and his eyes widen comically.

"N-no I didn't mean it that way it's not like that It's just that she works out a lot a-and she's number one in our class for a reason so of course she's going to - stop laughing at me!"

"It's okay," Armin says too casually, reaching for his napkin, "I won't tell Mikasa you think she's perfect."

Eren becomes increasingly flustered, red coloring the tips of his ears, "I said she _looks_ perfect not… y-you know what? I don't have to correct myself, you know what I meant."

"I don't actually."

"... Whatever," he grunts, standing with his tray. "I gotta go find her."

~•~

This place is not that big. Where could she be? She's always nearby, and now that he actually looks for her she's nowhere to be found, ironically enough.

Well. To be fair he hasn't searched that long. Or all that desperately. But if what Armin says is true, it's best that he clears up things with her. And quickly. The thought of her starving herself because of _him_ is just ludicrous and far more unsettling.

He turns the corner when a rather worrisome thud comes from one of the rooms, followed by a screech he could recognize anywhere.

"Sasha… I told you… To the left…"

"You never said which left!"

"Sasha!" He calls, "real quick -"

"Eren! Help us for a second. Please."

"Yes," Connie grunts from beneath the crate, "help."

Both brunettes lift the hefty box off of their bald companion, setting it down in the correct spot, according to Connie.

He coughs, long and drawn out. "Thanks man."

"No problem," Eren nods. "Now Sasha -"

"Oh! Right, what was it that you needed?"

"Have you seen Mikasa?"

"Mmmmm nuh uh. But I could help you look for her!"

"Oh, uh sure, that's -"

"For half of your dinner."

"Connie, could you help me find Mikasa?"

Sasha begins to protest, trying to bargain when Connie cuts her off.

"I would, but the captain asked us to clean the rooms here. And well, you and I know better than to just leave. Sorry."

Eren hums his understanding, making towards the door. "S'okay. Thanks anyway."

"Captain Levi assigned her to the stables earlier today. You might still be able to find her there."

"Oh, alright." A pause. "A word of advice. That corner over there looks messy. You should probably sweep it up before the Captain sees it."

"Sasha… That was your job!"

Eren steps back out, cracking a smile at the bickering resonating through the corridor.

~•~

It's a process to open the stable door. He has to wiggle and pull and push until the inevitable friction of metal pierces the drums of his ears. He cracks it open just enough to see a broom abandoned on the floor, hay gathered in various clumps around it. She stands in front of the second to last stable, hands weaving through the midnight mane of the what could only be Levi's stallion. He watches her for a moment, thinking how it's hair matches her own quite closely, in both color and sleekness.

He pushes the door enough to slip through, cringing at the continuous shriek of it. He's certain the door has made his presence well known, but it doesn't seem to deter Mikasa from her gentle ministrations.

"I got a little distracted," she says, patting the charcoal snout, "sorry, Jean."

Didn't he just see him at lunch?

"Jean?"

There has only been one other instance where Eren witnessed the otherwise stoic Mikasa jump in surprise. He had just turned twelve and he caught her placing handmade gifts on his cot. She had flushed pink before wishing him happy birthday, her voice as soft as her smile.

Now, her countenance is anything but.

She collects herself quick enough, clearing her throat as she retrieves the broom from the ground. There is definitely something off about her. There's a sickly tint to her nose, dark crescents that swell beneath her lashes, the way she wraps her cloak around herself when he stares a breath too long. Silence between them thickens and they both cut it, speaking at the same time.

He shuffles in place, letting her speak first. "I… I didn't know that was you. Me and Jean are supposed to clean the stables."

"He's inside eating."

"I know," she says, eyes glued to the hay. "I told him to go take a break."

"Well why aren't you in there? How come _you're_ not taking a break?"

Bristles dragging leisurely along the concrete is his only answer and he is reminded that this is Mikasa, who always kept her reasoning to herself and he changes his mind. He's not going to beat around the bush, pretending like he doesn't know anything.

"Mika-"

"-sa! I'm done eating so I… what are you doing here Jaeger?" The question is calloused and laced with accusation, like it's _him_ who's intruding.

That guy just had to come in now.

There's something else that becomes thick in the air and this time, it isn't silence. "Nothing that concerns you."

"Eren." Both boys turn to her. "Don't start fighting. What is it, Jean?"

Why is he being scolded? Jean is the one who's picking a fight with him.

"Right, um. I'm done eating so I can do the rest for you."

"It's alright. I finished cleaning," she assures, the pile of hay clearly unswept and right in front of her. Mikasa steps over it as she walks forward, looking up at Jean. "I've got laundry to do so could you close up?"

"Uh y-yeah of course…"

Eren can see Jean's expression through his peripheral and he turns back to him, the crease in his brows deepening. The hell is with that look?

She walks closer to the door and farther away from their unfinished conversation and for the what feels like the first time, farther away from him. "Thank you."

"Wait, Mikasa -"

"I've got to go. We can talk later, Eren." She claps one thin palm against the door and pushes it more open with astonishing difficulty, leaving both boys gaping at her struggle. Her movements are light and hushed, almost embarrassed as she steps out and he is rendered mute.

"Now you know how it feels when you leave her behind. So wipe that look off your face."

For once, he doesn't have a snarky remark.

~•~

Four days pass.

Chores and training and time pass and blur together and the week is almost over.

It's gone by in a blink and it's all the more frustrating because she _still_ doesn't come to the dining hall.

Did anyone else notice how exhausted she looked? He finds himself occasionally wondering about her wellbeing because the last time he spoke with her, she seemed unusually ill. He's looked for her between his duties and there's always _something_ that interrupts him.

After Jean, it was Levi. He had just gotten her attention but the toilets are so much more important.

Then there's the commander's upcoming test. He wanted to try and study with her, but Hanji scared the literal shit out of him. Now he has an experiment to mentally prepare for.

Sometimes it's his needy friends and they give him questioning looks at his exasperation.

He just wants some time to talk to her alone goddammit. Is it too much to ask?

It's kinda strange not having her around. It's something he's wished for countless of times, but her presence has always been a constant since forever. He hasn't even seen Armin all that much. It just... doesn't feel the same. And he feels like he's is the only one to blame.

~•~

She's tired. Sluggish. Hungry. So very dizzy.

A couple more days she told herself. She was positive she could hold out that long. But of course, her mind and body have different ways of functioning.

She doesn't feel her knees give out.

She can only feel her fingers clutching the plastic covering of the mat, the dryness in her throat as it forces out the little air left in her lungs. Her stomach wants to let out what isn't even there but it tries anyway, coughs coming out rasped and making her head all the more woozy. Her eyes dew at their burning sensation and she keeps them shut, willing the pain to go away.

Everything was going fine. Or at least she thought so. Perhaps it was only a matter of time...

She doesn't hear the door fly open through the ringing in her head. She only hears the punching bag as it swings side to side like a pendulum, fringed ropes creaking with tension and then a hand. One worn and large but so familiarly warm where her skin is slicked and freezing. It shakes her, and she doesn't remember laying down but she is and she's suddenly afraid. She wants to sit up, let them know she'll be fine but she can't. She not even sure if she can stand. Instead, her moist eyes slit open.

Green.

She thinks it's the Survey Corps cloak as it whirls off the shoulders of another. She didn't see the fabric placed on her but she welcomes the heat of it, curling tighter into a ball to retain the feel of it. She's immediately doused in its scent, one that brings her back beneath the lone tree in Shiganshina and she sighs.

Her eyes shift drowsily and she sees brown and… turquoise? Everything is hazed but his voice is close and her heart races a little faster because she knows it all too well, even misses it. He sounds panicked, off and she fades, little by little and she lets herself, too tired to even think. The last thing she feels is her body being lifted before dark nothingness consumes her and his voice completely.

~•~

When she wakes, she doesn't get up right away. Only cause her limbs won't let her. She hears herself groan, feels _something_ attached to her arm as she squirms uncomfortably beneath the scratchy sheets. Her vision is much clearer than before and she recognizes the room through the flickering flame.

Only this time, it's her who's in bed, not Eren.

Eren.

Pushing herself up on shaky forearms, greys shoot to the empty seat at her left. Where is he? Was he the one who brought her here? She double takes at the dresser beside her, clutching her stomach at the sight of a tray. It growls in defiance and she gives in, carefully detaching the IV.

The first bite isn't as relieving as she thought it'd be. The food must've been sitting there for some time because the soup is cold and the bread is a little hard. She can hardly complain though. It's the first thing she's had in _days_.

Her first step isn't as steady as she hoped either. It's wobbly and weak at first, guided only by faint moonlight, making her latch onto the corner of the mattress for support. Leaving her bed probably wasn't the smartest thing she's done or the dumbest, but she can barely breathe in the stuffy room with equally stuffy nostrils. The second step comes minutes later, unsteady yet slow and cautious. The third comes sooner, then a fourth, a fifth and before she knows it, she's standing outside with the main entrance at her back.

Her legs are surprisingly tired after her little endeavor so she plants herself on the cool stone of the steps, breathing in the autumn breeze. The gust makes her shiver and she realizes that she isn't in her sports bra or training shorts anymore. She actually doesn't know who owns the t-shirt and shorts she's currently donned in. They're very comfortable though.

She pulls her knees to her chest, staring blankly at the vast lining of trees, beyond the ombré of their leaves. There's a river not too far from headquarters and she swears she can hear the crash of the small waterfall against its rocks, the sound of it flowing indefinitely through the woods. The moon is as crisp as the air and she tunes to the music of it, listens as the trees sway to its melody. She doesn't notice how her lids flutter shut, how she slowly begins to drift until something is wrapped gingerly around her shoulders.

The lightness of the action tells her that it wasn't meant to wake her but it does, cloudy steels fixating on emerald blues. The profoundness of them has her turn away unwillingly before she stares too long, before she embarrasses herself in front of him. He must notice her twisting the cotton hems of her t-shirt because he tells her plainly that they're Sasha's. She hums her acknowledgment, not really knowing what else to say.

And then his hand is on her again, rough and tentative against her sunken face.

The pads of his fingers brush her bangs away to press the backside of his palm against her forehead, knuckles grazing her temple before the backs of his fingers rest on her cheek for what feels like the longest of moments.

"You shouldn't be out here. Your lips are turning blue."

The last part makes her unconsciously swipe her tongue across her bottom lip and even though it's dark, she knows he can probably feel the heat that rises to her cheeks from his burning gaze. She clears her tightening throat, pulling his brown garment over her forearms.

"Did you take me to med bay?" She feels more than she sees him nod.

"Thank you," she says, volume borderline whisper and she forces herself to look at him with a half-smile. He frowns, shutting his eyes as his brows crinkle. "Don't say that. Not to me." His hand drops.

"What do -"

"This is my fault," he hisses, "What happened to you I mean. I'm… I'm sorry."

"Eren-"

"Wait, just-" he sighs, unclenching his fists, "listen to me for a sec."

He twists himself to face her and to her shock, he grabs her knees so she can face him as well. It's a small gesture, but she can't help the tiny jump in her pulse at the unexpectedness.

"I shouldn't have said that to you." She knows what "that" he's referring to. She sniffles. "I was frustrated and I wasn't thinking… as usual," he smiles humorlessly. "It's not that you're… y'know… I'm - I'm just not strong enough. But that's okay. I _know_ I have to build my strength. What I don't know is how long it's going to take. We only started three weeks ago so…"

He seems kind of at a loss for words so she parts her chapped lips, facing the glittered sky, "it's okay. I wasn't thinking straight either. But it wasn't just that." She hugs her knees to her chest again, "I just feel like... it's not normal for a girl to look like I do." From the corner of her eye, she sees Eren snap his head towards her incredulously, almost offensively and she can't count on both hands how many times she's seen that look.

"Mikasa. Mikasa look at me. There is nothing wrong with you. There are no _standards_ you have to live by to be 'normal'. Who cares if your workout and train harder than other girls? If anything, they should be jealous of you!" Her mouth twitches, because of how frustrated he sounds and she feels all the more stupid for going on like she was. "You're your own person. Be proud of it." He places his hand on the crown of her head, ruffling the dark strands. "Idiot." He talks and touches her carefully, tone lacking its usual bite. It's like they're ten years old again, coming home with stacks of twigs.

"And… you shouldn't - should never worry about how you look because - because…" Mikasa raises her brow at his behavior; the hesitancy, how tense his fingers feel against her scalp, the face he makes when he's cursing someone or something. "You're a very pretty person, Mikasa."

Her initial reaction is shock. Eren complimenting someone is such a rarity that some part of her believed that he was incapable of saying anything like that, much less to her. Then she feels butterflies in her belly and warmth that spreads and fans out from her chest to the tips of her fingers. He _refuses_ to look at her and in that moment, she finds his aggressive timidity rather cute because that is so like him.

She plucks his hand from the top of her head and pulls him closer, chastely pressing her mouth to his cheekbone. While her lips are cold and probably blue, his cheek is hot and probably pink. She doesn't really know why she kissed him. She's thought about it, dreamed of it maybe once or twice. It could've just been the spur of the moment but in any case, she's glad she did. Because he walks her back to the room they've been in too many times, bids her goodnight with sweetness so subtle and when the sun streams in through translucent curtains hours later, she still has his sweater wrapped around her shoulders.


	3. Someone

**The following is request for Eren to protect Mikasa from bullies :3**

* * *

Mother always said it's rude to stare. He makes it so difficult, though, with his movements, precise and full of strength. She looks on subtly, over the top of her textbook and lenses, _admiring_ him and his lithe body. She hadn't known he was a boxer before this afternoon. But as she watches him in his element, she thinks the aura of it all suits him perfectly.

Her fingernail picks at the worn corner of her book, scraping harder when the slick skin of his shoulders and arms bulge with power. She bites her lip a little with the determination in his jaded eyes, ankles twisting and turning at the sight of him drinking water, neck exposed just right and collarbones as sharp as his tongue.

She's never seen Eren like this before, only in the hallways with his energetic and charming persona. Only in chemistry class when he's spaced out and lax directly in front of her. She sometimes fantasizes about building the courage to tap on his shoulder, to speak with the same smoothness he possesses with girls, but it would never happen. Could never happen.

He's, as they say, out of her league. If her senior class was a caste system, he'd be a king while she wouldn't even fit into the lowest category. She's too quiet and nerdy, too unsociable and dull where he is quite the opposite. Deep down, she knows he'd never go for someone like her. But it never hurts to dream, does it?

The last few people seated farther on the bleachers begin to gather their material and leave. Once they're gone, it'll only be them two inside the gym. Her anxious fingers fret with the bun of her hair, adjusting the tightness and pulling strands forward to frame her face. She thinks herself silly and naive as she dolls up some, ridiculing herself for believing he'd actually notice her. Her lips press and move lightly, smearing some flavored gloss as she fixes her glasses, pretending to be focused and suddenly the sound of his fists meeting the suspended bag cease. She glances up in time to see him throw a towel over his shoulder, gulping down water as he disappears into the locker room.

She wants to slap herself for the pangs of disappointment that shake her heart. She should have never anticipated for something to happen when she's no one to him. She gathers her belongings with a curl of longing, frustration flaring when her hair falls from her bun again. She tears the tie out, setting her reading glasses atop her books wistfully.

She makes the familiar way to her locker, shoulders rolling with the uncomfortable weight of her bag. She hears rhythmic vibrations from the side of her purse, and she sets her stuff down, unlocking the device.

 _Sorry Mikasa, looks like you're going to have to walk home again. Your father is coming late too. Don't wait up on us. Love you._

Of course.

She wants to throw her assignments in the air, leave them and her too heavy bookbag behind and take the little dignity she has left but she just _can't_.

She closes her locker slowly, feeling significantly heavier when she leans down to gather her things. She drops her glasses in the midst of it all, the matte frame sliding away. Sighing, she sets her books back on the floor, going to retrieve them when Nori beats her to it, mouth stretching into that grin she hates so much. His band of followers aren't far behind, standing idly like spectators. The stillness of the hall has her heart racing and she knows this won't end well. It never does.

"Missing something, Mikasa?"

She swallows, outstretching her trembling hand. "Give them back. Please."

He waves them about tauntingly, and she has no choice but to step into his trap, into the little game he loves to play. She reaches and he pulls back each time, eliciting snickers from behind. She waits a second, letting him wiggle them before her when she snatches them clean from his stubby fingers, tucking them neatly into her breast pocket. She kneels back down, fingers just grazing her bag when she's knocked over forcefully,

The laughs come louder and she hears the clatter of her utensils, her notebooks, her everything and anger flares.

She stands defiantly, going towards the clutter and Noki blocks her, face falling menacingly. She shoves him out of the way, only to have her head meet the knob of a nearby locker. A gasp of pain and then her hair is being pulled, nose dragging defeatedly along the floor and she doesn't recall yelling, but her throat feels a bit raw and the laughs and remarks keep coming. Tears well and they coo unsympathetically at her. She spits at them when the crouch to her level and her vision flashes white when one of the girls hits her, wiping saliva off her chin.

She can only cover her head then, and she only cranes her neck when a crack and a grunt come from above.

Eren is standing between her and Noki's group, shielding her wordlessly. She's surprised at the lack of response from them. From between his legs, she can see Noki bent over, clutching his jaw as one girl attends to him.

"Walk away."

He says it like a threat, tone as powerful as his jabs. All of them begin to back up, kicking her bag again as if they're trying to get the last word. The closing door echoes throughout the hall and he helps her sit against the bottom lockers, gathering her things while she wipes the blood from her nostril.

She in such a daze, wondering if he really just defended her, protected her from them. Her racing heart jumps into her throat when the warm skin of his palms cup her cheeks, lightly turning them side to side to inspect her face.

"Are you hurt anywhere else, Mikasa?"

He knows her name. Eren actually knows her name. He's looking at her lips now, blinking back up slowly to meet her quivering gaze and _Jesus Christ he's gorgeous._

Seconds pass of just her _processing_ and she jolts internally, gathering her muddled thoughts.

"M-my head…" she feels over the small bump on the side, tears beginning to well again because this is so embarrassing. Her imaginary first conversation never went like this. But there is no judgment within his jaded eyes, just understanding and he helps her stand, letting her use him as a crutch. She feebly grabs her backpack, just lifting it a couple inches off the ground.

"How did… how did you find me?" She can't help but wonder, surely he didn't see her walk out, hadn't even noticed her in the gym, so just… how?

"You screamed. I couldn't understand, but I heard you," he says plainly, like he's talking about how his day went. "I was shocked at first, you're always so quiet. I was in the middle of putting my stuff awa-"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause you any trouble, I just - I just -"

"It's _fine_. I'm glad you did. No one else has the balls to stand up to that bastard. It could have been really bad for you."

She's rendered speechless, _breathless_ at his underlying sincerity and the feel of his toned body, his eyes on _her_.

"Well the nurse is definitely gone, I'm sure. How are you getting home?"

"I - I don't have a - I'm walking," she blurts, trying to suppress whatever the hell she's getting from his hand pressing into her waist.

"Walking? Like this? That's not a good idea." You're telling her. "My car is right outside. I was about to head out, so I could take you home - That is! - um well, if you want… I don't really care - I mean I do! It's.. your call."

Since when is he the inarticulate one?

"I'd really appreciate that... uh…" she trails off, feeling dizzy.

"Eren," he says, leading them outside.

Her head snaps up, "huh?"

"My name. It's Eren." She thinks back to a few seconds before, realizing that it sounded like she was asking for his name. It's kind of ironic, really.

For once, she doesn't screw up and she isn't invisible. Of all people, Eren was the last person she thought she would befriend, much less talk to. But she's so happy because despite the fact that she's no one, she finally feels like she someone as he helps her into his car. She's probably reading too much into this when she knows he's only trying to help.

But she can pretend, if only for a little.


	4. Impossible

**Little drabble. College angst**

* * *

It's different looking at her these days.

He can always pick out her specific features in the deepest of crowds, but along with them, comes another set. He's standing right beside her, close enough to see the flecks of gray hidden within the pure ink of her irises. Close enough to feel the heat of her skin, the fluttering sensation her proximity tends to give.

He has to look away. Before someone sees the jealousy furrowing his brows, before they question the anguish clenching his jaw. Before she catches his eyes, making them cast aside awkwardly.

It could have been him, with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her closer to lavish her with compliments that make the bridge of her nose crinkle and color hues of rose.

It was possible.

She could have been his.

But she's not and it's still hard to accept it. To accept _them_ even though he should _._ After all, it was him who was a stupid, cowardly boy.

Doing lab together is both his curse and her blessing. She laughs at his jokes and he is left dazed at the familiar chime of it. The teacher's insult pulls him out it soon enough, making him each student snicker yet no one can see the hazardous thoughts that begin to dominate his mind. She looks to him confused so he grins tightly. His smile is well practiced, facade impenetrable. He can't let her see, he won't. Her knowing the truth wouldn't change anything. She probably chose another because she convinced herself of the same. In the end. that man is still a better choice for her because he wasn't the one that took years to notice her, one that laughed off their drunken kiss while she cried wistfully at her impulsive gesture.

There isn't a drop of regret now, only underlying happiness that he wishes he could have given, knows he could've if he had the chance. She is calm and focused, picking at her nail polish as silver moves carefully, repeatedly to understand the directions. He wants to move closer to show her how to properly work the microscope, wants to look her directly in the eye when they speak, wants to spend time with her like they used to, confess his desires and channel them the only way he can.

He wants.

A lot. Too much.

But he can't have what was never his to begin with.


	5. Shape

**Drabble :)**

* * *

She's watched him progress and grow year by year, felt how the chubby flesh of his fingers gradually became calloused with strength and unyielding purpose. His touch had been such a rarity, so fleeting up until the war ended. She had quickly accustomed to the playful tug of her bangs, the lingering grip when they spared alone together. Their relationship bloomed slowly but sweetly, her hand in his more often than not.

What she cherishes the most are the memories they hold, forever in the shape of his palms.

She remembers the first time her clothes littered his floor, how eagerly his fingers undid the most strenuous parts of their uniform. Their rough grip made her gasp, heated caresses evoking the most embarrassing of moans. They pinned her own above the short tendrils of raven hair, squeezing reassuringly with his movements.

The brush of his knuckles coaxed her into consciousness, nails raking her scalp to smooth back her hair like they did the night before. He had laughed at her bedhead then, redressing her while sneaking in touches that made her want to pull him back down and start over again.

It's impossible to forget when he slipped a beautiful ring on her finger and promised her eternity all over again, how one hand pulled her hair back while the other rubbed her back to soothe the morning sickness a year later.

Even now as they run over the perfect swell of her belly she imagines all the memories they have yet to make. She pretends she asleep and listens to loving words he murmurs to their child who apparently isn't. He whispers _how beautiful and loving mommy is_ and she battles the tears that collect unwillingly. Her hand moves to cover his and he sighs, the breath of it ghosting warmly over her nape.

She really, _really_ hopes their baby takes after him.


	6. Wounds

There's always guilt when he wakes up from a fever. The moist cloth slips off his forehead when he sits up, hands balling the sheets at the sight of her uncomfortable posture at his side. He never knows how much time she wastes watching over him, she never tells. A spoon at his lips is the only response, but if he's learned anything these past couple years, it's that he shouldn't argue. It's natural for her to take care of him like she always had. But these wounds aren't small cuts or bruises from defiance. They run much deeper, and last _a lot_ longer. It definitely seems that way.

Hanji doesn't know why he's healing slower this time, so the best thing for him at this point is to just rest for a couple days. How _perfect._

For each hiss of pain comes a mantra of apologies. It's annoying because Mikasa shouldn't be sorry for his mistakes. He sucks it up, biting his lip to silence the whimpers that threaten to escape. It's futile trying to hide anything from her, though, because she wraps the gauze slower, gentler like he's made of paper thin glass. He whispers his gratitude solemnly, shutting his eyes to numb the soreness of his body.

She is quick to give him water when he coughs dryly, helps him walk and work his muscles so he doesn't feel _useless_. He doesn't know why she invests so much in him. He thinks he knows somewhere in the back of his mind, but her nails running through his hair prevent his thoughts from being anything coherent. When she isn't watching him, her eyes are glued to words that depict a whole other universe. He almost asks if she can read her book aloud, but the thought alone is childish and somewhat horrifying to request, so he settles for silence. Her fingers brush his hair back over and over again, effectively soothing his headache and it's never felt so _nice_ to be dependent on someone, on her of all.

Liable is how he'd usually describe himself in this situation. Somehow, though, she knows how to convince him otherwise. She keeps him company when she can, entertains even the most ridiculous of notions. It's strange, but Mikasa has become his favorite distraction.


	7. Cry

**This is me venting my angst ;-;**

* * *

She knows he doesn't mean to make her cry. Sometimes she just catches him at the wrong moment, oversteps their bounds a little. Of course, he finds her later and they talk, his apologies hidden between explanations and misunderstandings. That's what she could always count on; him coming back at the end of the day not as a soldier with a heavy purpose, but as Eren, who always thinks and acts with his heart. The one she and Armin wove flower crowns with before the fall. Before any of this.

He doesn't seem as solemn as he did when they first resumed their duties, but he isn't overflowing with determination either. She can feel his drive fading, and hers, with it. For different reasons, she thinks, or rather knows. Her stomach hasn't stopped churning since his revelation back when they were behind bars. It's hard _not_ to think about it. He was so strong in her eyes, immortal even. It seemed as though Eren could overcome just about anything. They have evaded so much; she's done her best to _protect_ both of her friends from so much. This, however, is something out of her hands. Something that not even an infinite amount of praying could fix.

By now, they must've noticed how delicate she treats them, going as far as refusing to let them spar. Eren's complaints drown out Armin's reasoning, and she wishes how he could see the severity of their situation, wishes that for once he would take himself into consideration now more than ever. Not just for him, but for her.

Levi thinks she's being too overbearing but she's not sure if he understands. If anyone in the legion could. She can barely look at either of them without seeing an expiration date hanging off them like a tag. Eren more so than Armin.

So when both she and him take supplies in from outside, she always leaves the lighter crates for him, much to his annoyance.

"C'mon, Mikasa. It's okay I can take this one in."

"No."

"I'm completely fine! I can't let you shoulder everything!"

"It's fine."

"Then let me help you with it."

"Eren-"

"It's easier this way. Neither of us are carrying the weight entirely. Just let me help, damn it."

She doesn't want to upset him any further so she silently complies, moving to one side of the crate and he the other.

They lift on his count, walking slowly towards the back door. It is much easier, but her worry heightens as the box shakes with his trembling arms.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. We're almost there." She allows herself to believe him for his sake, adjusting her grip in case he misses a step.

They make it pass the door and inside the old chamber sooner than she expected and they set the crate down, alongside the others. He dusts off his hands and places them on his hips triumphantly.

"See, I told you I could handle it." He grins proudly, but it falters quickly when crimson trickles from his nostril and he swears, the pads of his fingers catching some droplets. Neither of them move for what seems like hours, both of them shocked.

"I-I haven't transformed in - in _weeks_ , how could this…?"

Her fingers reach inside the pocket of her jacket, pinching and pulling out a clean handkerchief. She sits him down on the same box they carried in, quietly cleaning the blood from his upper lip. He stares off, eyes completely empty. The look brings memories unpleasant beyond measure and suddenly, her throat knots. He notices her watching him, scratching the back of his head.

"This is probably nothing, I swear I'm… Mikasa?"

Tears are flowing from her eyes as she cleans him, brushing the cloth against him as if she was polishing thin glass. She hics, loudly enough that it echoes through the cluttered room and she places the cloth in his palm to finish, turning away. It's too hard to look at him, the image alone shattering her heart over again. Her head throbs painfully and she sighs, holding her hand against it. She hadn't cried when she first learned of their eventual demise, but now it seems more real than ever. Sobs and tears spill and she doesn't care that he's right there, but yes she does cause she loves him so much and she's going to _lose_ her world again. And it only continues to mock her strength.

"Mikasa?" She shakes her head vigorously, waving him off but of course, he doesn't play into it. She keeps her eyes averted, looking down with blurred vision at the bloodied handkerchief in his hands. He wraps his fingers around her arms, unsure and hesitant.

"Don't… don't be sad." How can she not be? She is upset and so very terrified to continue on knowing that he and Armin are leaving her behind. They are not to blame, she knows. But she's so hollow and she's aching too much. He pulls her closer, rubbing her back.

"I didn't mean to make you cry."

"Y-you… you didn't, I.. I know. It just - hurts to s-see you like this." Her sentences are shaky, voice absolutely pathetic. She can't do this to him, add unnecessary guilt to the crippling weight on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry - I'm sorry, I'm just - just -" She pulls away, but he keeps her there, arms sturdier than she's ever felt.

"I understand. It's okay." There's nothing else to say. They both know that there is only so much consolation someone can offer. So all she does is just breathe. Breathe in his scent, calm down and remember this. Remember how warm and gentle his embrace has always been, remember how warm and gentle his soul will always be. Remember the depth of his voice and eyes. _Remember him_ and wrap her arms around him with a smile.


	8. Pink

**Anonymous request for Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and Annie to go on a blind date!**

* * *

When she gasps, her hand accidentally slips, pink lipstick dragging out from the corner of her mouth and onto her cheek. Annie had entered the restroom quietly, spoke so suddenly. She supposes her friend had always been that way, but the last thing she expected was for Annie to follow her in here.

"Wait… what?"

"I said switch with me."

"But - why?" Her date couldn't have been that terrible. "Is there something wrong with Eren?"

Annie joins her at the sinks, leaning against the counter as she folds her arms.

"It's not that there's something wrong with him. He's just not my type. It's obvious I'm not his either."

"Annie, you just met him."

"Yeah, I know that."

"Then don't you think it's a bit early to tell?

"Maybe. But there isn't no connection. His blonde friend seems more interesting to me."

She can't help a light-hearted scoff, turning back to the mirror with a napkin. "Wel,l he _was_ the one holding most of the conversation."

They are lucky that Armin had just returned from Spain, otherwise she's positive the night would've ended a lot sooner. It's normal for Annie to be silent, but Armin seemed a lot more timid than her date. Maybe Eren isn't used to this kind of thing.

The friction of the paper towel reddens her cheek some, leaving behind pink smudges that make her tongue click. "Neither of you were talking actually. It was just me and Armin."She holds the edge of the towel underneath the faucet, twisting the knob.

"He was looking at you."

Those words distract her, causing the makeshift wipe to dampen entirely. Gosh darn it.

She furrows her brows at Annie, wringing the napkin. "Huh?"

"Eren. I noticed how he'd watch every time you spoke. I think you should've been his blind date, not me."

Even though she doesn't know anything besides his name, the thought is… surprisingly flattering. She dabs at the smeared makeup, contemplating.

"So," Annie starts, "how about it?"

She can't help but feel guilty. "What if you're wrong? What if he's actually interested in you?"

"I already said, Mikasa. He's not. I don't mean to assume, but it doesn't seem like you're very attracted to his friend either."

Well. There is kind of a point there. He is very intelligent and lively, obviously compassionate about history and the arts. Nothing is wrong about him at all but she thinks she's starting to see where Annie is coming from.

She tosses the towel, sighing.

"Alright."

Armin continues their conversation once both of them return to their respective seats, somehow keeping them all entertained. Well, mostly all of them. She becomes nervous when she feels green eyes on her, his gaze continuously flickering from his hands, to Armin, then to her. Why hadn't she noticed it before? She watches him carefully from the corner of her eye, quick to look away when she thinks he'll catch her. He is pretty handsome. Doesn't really seem like he would be a quiet one. This - switch - is going to be harder than she thought. They really should have thought about this more before they came back.

Her straw begins collecting the last drops of her drink rather obnoxiously, ice cubes clinking against the glass. She stands from the booth, deciding to grab another drink before devising a plan.

"I'll be back. I'm going to get another drink." She gives a polite smile, barely taking a step when Eren's voice halts her.

"Wait! I'll uh - come with you." He wrestles his way behind Armin, almost tripping over his feet. She steals a glance back at the table. His cup is still full. Annie smirks and inside, she can feel her heart doing a tiny flip.

"Okay."

They walk side by side, looking anywhere but each other. Her inner monologue becomes a battle for words, hands subconsciously picking the fastening of her purse. _Talk just talk_. Smoothing down her dress, she turns to him.

"So-"

"So-"

Two sets of wide eyes meet, expressions mirrored perfectly before they share a shaky laugh, taking their last steps towards the bar.

"You first," he offers.

"Oh um." Shit. Her thoughts have already slipped. "No, it's okay, you first."

Eren smiles and she's already charmed by it. So friendly and welcoming and boyish -

"I was going to ask if you've ever been here before."

"Ah, a couple times. But it was never really by choice," she admits. "You?"

"Ha… Well -"

"Well well, if it isn't the _bullheaded bastard_. Here to cause more trouble?"

Her immediate reaction is confusion. She looks between both Eren and the Bartender leaning against the table, the former wringing his hands anxiously.

"You uh, still remember me?"

"How could I forget the two lightweights that nearly turned this place upside down?"

"Look, I'm _really_ sorry about that. Not here to cause any trouble, sir. I just came for a small drink."

"Oh ho ho no, I don't think that's a good turns to three and I can't keep an eye on you."

"No need to worry, cause uh -" Eren points to her. "She will."

What.

Eren winks. "Right?"

Both men are looking to her, waiting.

His flirty gesture puts her in a daze, momentarily muddling her thoughts until she remembers herself, the bridge of her nose matching the pink shade of her lips.

"Y-yeah, I'll um. Watch over him."

The Bartender eyes the two of them, pulling out two cups.

"You seem responsible. I'll take your word for it, kid."

She holds her questions till their drinks are poured, stays silent until the man walks away.

"I know what you're wondering. _What was that all about_."

She chuckles, nodding her head.

"It happened when I was a junior in college. Me and a… an acquaintance got stupid drunk and well, 'nearly turned the place upside down.' Both of us almost got arrested."

"Oh my gosh, what exactly did you two do?" Eren shifts in place, rubbing the back of his neck abashedly.

"It's actually a long story. Pretty crazy one at that. Do you still wanna hear it?"

She looks back at the pair they left behind, not at all shocked at the way Annie smiles at another one of Armin's enthusiastic experiences, for once willingly exchanging conversation. There's contentment between the two and she faces Eren, returning his grin. The stool screeches against the tiled floor as she pulls, making him laugh when she pats the one next to her.

"I'm going to need more than a couple shots for this. Promise you'll watch on me?"

She takes a moment to scoot a little closer, eyes glimmering with the anticipation of a child.

"Promise."


	9. Butterflies

**This stemmed from a random thought while I was cleaning, of all things.**

* * *

While she loves the freedom the maneuvering gear allows, combat is where a majority of her skill lies. Sparing let's her feel more in control, measures the amount of strength and precision she has as it grows. Some days, after they'd finished dodging wooden props, she went off alone, donned in her personal set of training clothes as everyone else called it a day. Her knuckles and shins met the ragged material of the punching bag repeatedly, almost rhythmically while her other comrades dedicated their time to leisure.

Even though this particular skillset isn't necessary to survive in the Legion, she continues to practice, honing her own techniques between simulations and strategic meetings. Normally when she's free, she exercises on her own, inside a room on the more uninhabited side of base. So, she's a bit startled when her ears catch the loud creak of the door, the noise prolonged and unexpected.

She pauses and stands straight, the bandage on her wrist catching droplets from her hairline.

"Is something wrong, Eren?"

"Ah, no, nothing is wrong. I was wondering where you were."

He was looking for her?

"Is there something you that you need?" She grabs at the suspended bag, slowing its wide swing.

He raises a brow at her, shakes his head. "No - No I don't need anything. I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh." She turns away, smooths her fingers over a fragment of peeling tape, "Okay."

He closes the door behind him.

"Yeah, I was uh - thinking about what happened a couple weeks ago… with Bertholdt and everything."

Her heart seizes, larger eyes glued to her hands as the bag stills. He can't mean -

"Everything was happening so fast, I could barely think. I'm sure it was the same for you too. And after these past few days, I've been thinking about - all of this and I started to realize…" he releases a breath, boots shifting in place.

Her pulse throbs even faster. She tries to listen to him and gather her thoughts as quick as his explanation allows her. There's a fluttering sensation within her stomach that spreads, bringing with it uneasiness.

"I had... _a lot_ of mistakes in my form, along with my counter-attacks against Reiner and looking back now, it's - awful."

Oh.

Relief begins to flood, the sudden feeling alleviating as it is odd. She chances a look over her shoulder at him, fixing the strings at the hem of her shorts.

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have been able to hold him down. I don't think I've been training hard enough… which is why I was looking for you. You're probably the only one here who still practices with hand-to-hand combat - a lot and - I don't know I was wondering if you could - y'know… help me?"

She doesn't realize she's staring, completely unaware of how his comfort begins to wane as she does.

He always got so frustrated when they partners as trainees. Sometimes he'd just walk away during, leaving her on her own. A part of her is still confused as to why, but now that that it's _him_ coming to _her_ , she doesn't feel the need to question it. She just feels... happy.

He rubs the back of his neck timidly, "I'm just asking because you were the top of our class and all and it would be weird with anyone else and - hey I understand if you'd rather be by yourself it's not a big deal -"

"Okay."

His rambling stops, comically, mouth remaining slightly ajar. "Okay?"

She nods, readjusting the wraps around her hands, her fingers. His anxious demeanor melts with a relieved sigh and he quickly shrugs off his jacket, thanking her with a grin she hasn't seen in what seems like months.

"Hold your arm up a little more, so that your elbows are leveled with your ribs."

His arms stretch to fix his sleeves comfortably before eyeing the position of his arms. "Okay," he pants, "I think I got it… um - how are they, by the way?"

"How are… what?"

"Your ribs."

She grabs his forearms lightly, spreading them a little more apart. "They're fine."

The pain has significantly dulled, but unfortunately, she still gets intense, spontaneous flares of it. She moves to stand in front of him, mirroring his stance.

"I'm going to come towards you, and you try your best to stay on your feet. Your opponent's moves will sometimes unpredictable but with enough practice, you can be prepared for anything. Don't worry so much about getting hits in. Look for opportunities for takedown."

He leans forward some, clenching his fists.

"Got it. I'm ready."

She eases toward him and he watches her, focused. He deflects her first few jabs, easy, determined and vice versa. They continue this dance of theirs and she notices his efforts as they improve exponentially with each round, movements slowly becoming accustomed to her pattern. She means to throw a kick at him but the angle is too much, the pain forcing her guard down and he seizes the opening like she had instructed, putting her in a hold as they knock into the bag. She ignores the protest of her ribcage and persists, expecting to free herself without issue, but to no avail. She thinks it the pain, or maybe the exhaustion she had prior to this, but the result is the same despite the case. Soon, it becomes a matter of power as they practically wrestle on the floor, the exertion on her arms affecting her breathing and in turn, her chest. Stubborn, she continues without complaints, and he fights his way on top of her unknowingly, pinning her hands adjacent to her head.

To her surprise, there is hardly a trace of satisfaction in his countenance. He just - looks at her and her him, lungs expanding and constricting abnormally.

The punching bag swings like a pendulum, syncing with every passing second.

They blink at one another, as if in wait. The fluttering sensation returns, but she dares to hold his gaze, attempting to be defiant.

She flinches a little when something falls onto her cheek and his eyes flick to the area, lashes falling and rising evenly.

Gently, he releases his grip on one wrist, making her eyes widen by another fraction when the heat of his palm warms her cheek. Green eyes catch her grey ones as he carefully thumbs away the droplet of sweat, making her heart beat an entirely different, more sporadic rhythm. He keeps his palm there and she finds herself limp, frozen beneath him.

"Are you okay?"

Honestly, she can barely fathom his actions. He climbs off, helping her sit up and to her dismay, a grimace slips.

"Mikasa," he says when she doesn't respond, "Are you hurt?"

She resigns, holding her side. "My ribs… I moved the wrong way for a moment…"

"Do you want to go to the infirmary?"

"No no, it's was only temporary. The pain I mean. You don't need to worry, I'm fine now."

Eren helps her stand in spite of her words, holding her bare biceps from behind.

"I think that's enough for you today. We can practice some other time, Mikasa."

She agrees, moving silently towards her things. She vaguely begins to wonder if he enjoyed training with her.

"Are you coming to dinner tonight?" She asks, finally calm.

"Yeah, I could use some food, even if it is crap." He collects his jacket beside the door, dusting himself off.

"Alright," she says, facing him. "I'm going to shower before I go. I'll see you later."

"See you, thanks again."

She moves purposely slow and waits until the door shuts behind him, holds her breath until his footsteps cease entirely before slumping against the wall.

She holds her belongings close, a soft blush coloring the apples of her cheeks. She traces the path of his thumb gingerly and this time, she doesn't mind the funny feeling the memory brings.


	10. Bruised

**This was an anonymous request I received for Mikasa to be tired of fighting and Eren trying to comfort her :) Thanks for reading!**

* * *

"Don't say that, Mikasa."

She swallows the last of her medication, each tablet sliding harshly down her throat. It's awfully bitter, forcing her to cough around the taste. Eren pulls the cup away from her fingers gently, a deep breath pushing past his lips.

"What happened isn't your fault."

Her hand gestures to the small pitcher and he reaches for it, refilling her cup.

The medics say she's very lucky. Had she stayed pinned beneath the debris any longer, she would have suffocated. But to her, this is anything but lucky. Being the only survivor brings no relief, only uneasiness. Countless _what if'_ s.

Her eyes follow his gaze to her leg, elevated and completely swathed below the knee. The only part of her that was severely injured. Surprising, but inconvenient.

"I know it feels like it is… but all of that is out of our control. You told me that, remember?"

She gives a feeble nod, grasping the cool glass. "I do."

He never truly believed those words himself when his original squad members had died, but… she's beginning to understand why. These thoughts are poisonous, yes. But once they come, it's hard to make them go.

The silence they sit in is empty, void of the tension and raw emotion she had come to know during times like this. It's contemplative, on not just one but both ends.

Her fingernail scratches lightly at the linen.

"I want to believe that, but… back then, I _was_ in control."

He settles the pitcher back into the basin, looking to her. In her peripheral, she can see a crease between his brows.

"We were taking them out, we were winning… but the abnormals. It was like they came out of thin air. If I hadn't let my guard down in that moment, those people…" She stops, unwilling, or rather _unable_ to properly express her remorse. To communicate just how upset she is at herself. The moments after she had been swiped from the rooftop are lost within her memory. She has no clue as to how she got tangled beneath the rubble, but that doesn't matter.

"Lives were lost because I got distracted."

"Mikasa…"

"And now, I'm paying the price for my mistake."

"Hey -"

"I can't even stand. I don't know when I'll be able to. What will I do if something happens you or Armin before then? The rest of our team?"

"Nothing is going to happen, don't worry -"

"I _don't_ _want_ to worry anymore, Eren. That's the thing." She can feel her eyes beginning to well, her frustration growing. He doesn't need this when all he's trying to do is help. "I'm just… tired of seeing people get hurt. Tired of seeing _you_ get hurt. All of this - it's terrifying."

They've had this discussion before, but it had always been the other way around, under different circumstances. She didn't know how to help him then, and she can tell he's at a loss for words too.

His face falls into his hands, fingers rubbing at the corner of his eyes before the greens of them fixate on her.

"Look -"

"Eren!"

He jolts, face twisting sourly for the slightest of seconds before he turns towards the door, clearly trying to maintain a calm countenance.

"Hanji-san, now isn't a good time."

Their superior pauses at his tone, looking to her just as she turns her attention to her hands, picking at their dressings. Subtly, she blinks away the moisture, willing for her eyes to dry.

"Is everything alright?"

She finds her voice, speaking up when his silence drags a moment too long.

"Yes, I'm just feeling a little off today. You needed Eren?"

Hanji adjusts her glasses, unconvinced but doesn't prod any further, thankfully.

"Yeah…" Hanji places her hand against her hip, tilting her head at Eren.

"I came to find you because Levi and I have to meet with the higher-ups soon. Could you come help Jean and the rest unload the wagons outback?"

"Ah, yeah," He nods his head, averting his eyes. "Yeah, I'll help."

Hanji grins. "Thanks. And Mikasa? I hope your doing better."

"Thank you, Hanji-san." She wonders how far Hanji can see past her smile.

The scientist pats her hand on the door frame twice before she's gone, bringing both of them to a collective sigh.

She moves to put aside her cup, suddenly hissing when her arm stretches out too far. Eren immediately takes the drink from her, eyeing the bruised limb as she nurses it.

"You need to put the sling back on."

"It's fine. I'm sure it's almost done healing."

He scoffs incredulously at that, sarcastically agreeing with her while plucking his jacket from the foot of the bed. The chair grinds harshly against the floor as he stands.

"I'll come back later. Rest, Mikasa." He juts a finger at her. "I mean it."

She lays on her good side, adjusting the blanket Sasha brought her. "I will."

The door clicks behind him and she curls her knees carefully towards her chest. Eventually, the drugs in her system take effect, slowly easing her out of consciousness and into a dreamless sleep.

His calls are initially distant, like a hallucination of sorts. But the delicate shake of her shoulder, the warmth of his palm is all too real for it to be a dream. Her muscles, stiff and tired, stretch before she turns to him.

"Eren," she yawns, her scarf in his hand the first thing to catch her eye. "Is something going on?"

There's a single stream of light seeping from the crack of the door, just enough for her to make out his figure. He's changed out of uniform, dressed in his casual clothes.

"Can you come with me?" He's half murmuring, half whispering. It must be late.

Her gaze bounces around the room, becoming one of confusion as it settles on him.

"Where?"

"I'll show you." His hands fidget at his sides. That is, if you want to."

"I… I can't walk. How will I…?

His mouth morphs into an 'o,' twisting into odd shapes before breathing a small _ah_. Eren helps her sit upright, carefully bending both legs over the edge of the mattress. He slips her shoes and sweater on patiently, cautious of any pressure until he finishes, looping the scarf around her neck. Despite her drowsiness, she blushes at his proximity, daring herself to meet his eyes. They flicker from her face to her neck, focused as he adjusts the material just beneath her chin. He stands at his full height, turning around completely.

Watching him kneel to her level, she catches on quick, placing her hands on his shoulders. The callous of his fingers slide over her calves, minding the bandaged leg as he draws both of them to his sides. He stands, strong and tall, forearms supporting her thighs comfortably.

"Are you alright? Your arm -"

"'S alright," she says, words almost a mumble. "I'm alright."

It's been awhile since she's gotten fresh air. Everything is crisp; the temperature, the moon, the scent of pines. Much preferable to the stuffy corner she's been in for the past week. Her cheek rests at the curve of his neck, brown strands occasionally tickling her nose. The pace he sets is rhythmic, the music of the night hushed and strangely reassuring. She begins to doze, forgetting her surroundings until he speaks, nudging her back into wakefulness.

"I thought about what you said earlier… y'know, about being tired of - _everything_."

She tightens her arms a bit, letting him know she's listening.

"Everyone deals with stress differently. But you - I think it's hard for you to do anything _but_ think and stress. And worry. You need another… outlet I guess, other than training. Especially now with…" his thumb brushes over the cotton layered on her shin, throat clearing. "Yeah."

"I see." Looking at her leg, she tries to estimate the amount of time it will take to heal. At least enough to where she can stand. She holds her sigh, steering her eyes away.

They start moving up a slope and his breathing becomes ragged, her concern and self-consciousness beginning to swell.

"Sorry," she eventually says, awkward.

"For… for what?" he pants.

"I'm - _heavy_."

Eren clicks his tongue, blaming his exhaustion on his last minute assignment. She can't help but hold her frown, skeptical. He continues on, promising they're close.

"Mikasa." He turns to look at her, the edge of his jaw knocking into her forehead.

Her lids remain closed, a small hum pressed into the nape of his neck.

"We're here."

The body of water is - huge, compared to the rivers they've waddled across in shiganshina. Pines and hills line each curve, clouds clustering and gliding over. It's -

"Beautiful."

The moonlight dances on the water's surface, glistening like she's never seen it before.

"It's pretty amazing, isn't it."

After a couple of sharp gasps and multiple apologies, they find a spot on the earth side by side, observing the sight before them. It's peaceful, compared to the busy environment of base, compared to the unsettling terrain outside of Rose.

"I… I don't know what to say. Y'know, to convince you that it isn't your fault. But I know exactly what it feels like - to deal with that."

He leans back on his palms.

"When I'm overwhelmed, I come out here. It quiet enough. And there's a lot of room to breathe."

At this, she begins to understand. She hadn't meant what she said earlier. It was out of guilt and exhaustion, but it provoked him enough to bring her to this place. For him to go to such lengths, just to help her feel better. It reminds her of why she's here. Of the promise she made to someone important.

"Yes…there is. I'm really glad you brought me here, Eren."

He tugs a lock of her hair, playfully, acknowledgments carried away with the midnight breeze.

His yawn is contagious, fatigue building as their conversation ceases. She doesn't know she's nodding off again until her temple falls onto his shoulder, a bit hard. She jerks and apologizes, moving to create some distance.

"It's okay, Mikasa. I'll wake you up when I'm ready to go." With a pull of her cardigan, she's back at his side, resting against his bicep. She isn't sure how much time has passed, but when he thinks she's sleeping, he wraps a meek arm around her.


	11. Lazy

**Random drabble ~**

* * *

Love is something she has unconsciously paid attention to. As she fills her basket with fruits, she hears it; the conjoined laughter between a man and a woman, both practically floating from stand to stand. When she turns to the pair, she sees it; the adoration, the hands on cheeks and lips on lips.

It's the twining of fingers between a mother and her child, a wife's wrinkled smile as her husband kisses her temple, tittering when his mouth sputters out some grey strands. There's laughter, always. She isn't aware she's staring until their eyes meet, brightness meeting darkness and she moves, casually blending within the crowd. The feelings she would get in those moments wasn't longing as much as it was curiosity.

Once in a while, she'd turn back around, vaguely wondering: Just what is it like to be in love?

Before joining the Legion, she would listen the hushed voices traveling to each bunk, every other girl describing just what they felt it was. Exhilarating. Intense. Breathtaking. But after a couple years with Eren, she thinks her favorite is how lazy it can be. How the rich thrum of his heart slows hers, the careful weight of his chest on hers unusually comforting and warm. It's like lying beneath the sun in the afternoon, the heat of it gentle on her skin, rays blinding in the best of ways.

His hands smooth over knobs of bone, arranging them to fit around his body as he kisses the base of her throat, sighing into its hollow.

"We should get dressed, Mikasa."

She blinks slowly up at him, mouth springing into a smile as she shakes her head. It's too comfortable, too difficult to part from this.

"No?"

Her arms encircle his torso, keeping him there.

"No."

He pokes at her belly. "Since when are you lazy?"

His gesture begins a chain of retaliation, calloused fingers wiggling at her ribs and hers pressing into the muscle just above his hips.

Gasps and fits of laughter begin to occupy the space between, and she knows it's real.


	12. Frayed

**A request from anonymous for Eren and Mikasa to be faced with a situation where one of them has to be sacrificed. The angst is real.**

* * *

Their arguments, he discovers, are poorly timed. Whether it's before evaluations or before battles, both of them have always had something to disagree on. But no matter how petty or critical the dispute, Eren never thought they'd ever have to fight over which one should live and which one should stay behind to die.

"You _knew_ what we were sent here for." Her gaze doesn't falter in its intensity.

"This was not a part of the plan, Eren."

"No, it wasn't. None of this was. But this is the only way to finish what we came here to do."

She shakes her head, beginning to pace. "There has to be another way. You always say that. We've - there's _always_ been another way."

"Mikasa, I… I don't know if there's one this time."

"We'll think of something."

"No."

"We just have to rethink all of this and - and -"

"Mikasa!" he snaps, gripping her wrist as she steps past him. She lowers her head, purposely veiling her face behind a curtain of raven hair. His grip slackens in regret, fingers tugging at her sleeve. They stand in front of one another, eyes staring down in opposite directions. He doesn't release his hold.

"There isn't much time. And - we both know _I_ don't have much time -"

"I know," she says curtly, hollow. Her lids fall shut, wincing as if to say _please stop reminding me_.

"Mikasa," he tugs at her arm again, the gesture so surprisingly gentle in comparison to the tone they had taken with one another moments earlier. Her pained eyes settle on the ties of his shirt, breaths syncing with the rise and fall of his chest. "You have to go back."

She sucks in a breath, exhales soft words. "I can't."

" _Please_ ," he says, "I don't want it to end for you like this. It's not fair to you."

"No, what isn't fair is you asking me to leave you to die."

"Look, I know that it's -"

"You don't, Eren. You don't know. I don't think you understand just what you're asking of me."

He sighs, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He shifts to face the moon behind him, putting space in between them. The wind picks up, leaves rustle and he forces himself to think through the frustration. It feels as if it doesn't matter what they do or decide; someone will inevitably get hurt. His anxiety begins to heighten, clustering his thoughts until it singles into a piercing, torturous noise that prods at his mind.

There's a shuffle of boots behind him, a sigh almost as heavy as the weight on his chest.

"If it was me," she starts, slowly. Knowing exactly what she's about to ask, he turns to her with the intention to interrupt, only to find himself speechless at her tears.

"If it was me," she repeats, more firmly. "Would you go?"

His lungs suddenly burn with each intake of air, and he sees the furrow of her brows become tighter at his silence.

He lets out a defeated breath, because _of course_ he wouldn't leave her, and saying so is him taking the risk of losing her. She sniffles, pale knuckles reaching to wipe at her cheeks.

"I can't leave and go on, knowing that I could've stayed and done something different. I wouldn't want to." Her eyes search for his, until she decisively moves to stand face to face, strides nearly defiant.

"I'm not leaving," she states. He can see the determination shining through the moisture _still_ threatening to spill, the slight quiver of her mouth despite the finality in her tone. Eren's palms suddenly press into the sides of her face, thumbs smoothing over the swelled skin beneath her eyes.

"You always have to win, don't you?" Her lips quirk upwards, tears of desperation replaced with ones of mirth at his resignation. Her fingers wrap around his wrists.

"Always."

They're too raw with emotion to think up anything thorough in logic, but it's these moments that remind him of everything they've overcome. They have, and perhaps will continually be in situations that equal in hopelessness. It's her strength and his will that have kept them here this long, and it's the arguments that admonish their very purpose to protect each other. It's bittersweet; no matter how hard they try, it's impossible to get rid of one another.


	13. Onlook

**I received a request from anonymous for sleepy!Eren to kiss Mikasa unconsciously in front of squad Levi 2.0! This takes place after Hanji's experiments in chapter 50 something. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

"How's Eren?"

"He'd be fine if Hanji-san could control herself."

He doesn't miss the violent manner her chopping begins to take.

"Mikasa… She apologized already. She's just… eccentric when it comes to her research."

She sets down the knife and sighs, gathering potato peels into her hands.

"Eren is fine. His fever went down." As she tosses the peels, he notes the slight swell of skin beneath her eyes.

"You were there all night, weren't you?"

"Not all night," she half yawns and he smiles, suppressing the urge to shake his head. "Just until his temperature was normal."

He hums, twining his hands behind his back. "I see."

He peeks a little over her shoulder, watching her and Historia cook for a few moments longer. "Is there anything I could do to help?"

"Ah… could you start setting the table? I'm almost done."

"Of course."

Sasha and Jean come into the kitchen soon after and help him, Jean more than Sasha as the latter continuously hovers behind his childhood friend.

"It smells great, Mikasa."

"Thank you, Jean."

"Especially the stew," Sasha adds, plate ready in her hands. "Who taught you how to make it?"

Mikasa's hand reaches for the ends of her scarf, eyes softening.

"Auntie… well I mean, Eren's mom. She showed me how to make dishes like this."

"Where is Eren by the way?"

"Still out cold," Historia answers.

"Still?"

"Guys," he interrupts, more for Mikasa's sake than his own. "Let's just sit down and eat. Hanji-san and Captain Levi might make it back today. We have things to do." His reminder only leaves Jean and Sasha complaining about the work Levi has tasked all of them with, which somehow leads to both parties bickering about who does more around the cabin. Historia and him silently slip into their seats, spectating the petty argument until the sudden shift in Mikasa's tone catches his attention.

"E-Eren."

Each gaze fixates in their direction, and immediately he feels something off about Eren; his lack of regard for everyone else, his countenance.

"Eren!" Sasha purposely exclaims over Jean's heated rebuttal. "How are you feel..."

The question dies on her tongue. All of their jaws hang open as Eren pulls away from Mikasa, the soft smack of their mouths audible.

"Good morning, Mikasa."

He is the first to remember himself, looking to Eren and Mikasa for a much needed explanation and is surprised when he receives nothing of the sort. The juice from the ladle drips steadily onto the floor as Mikasa remains frozen in place, whereas Eren takes a seat almost casually, his eyes void of light and perhaps focus for him to do such a thing. He never knew his friend was even _capable_. Connie makes himself present in the midst of their shock, calling out a second time.

"... Did I miss something…? Did Sasha do something?"

While Historia exhibits slight confusion, she does not seem the least bit surprised. Jean and Sasha share an expression all their own as Connie continues to question the group. Eren's eyes remain heavy one minute, and the next they are alight with irritation, creased with perplexity as Jean practically lunges over the table to grab at his shirt.

This is how Captain Levi finds all of them; Mikasa and Connie tearing the two boys off each other, Sasha screaming at all of them to calm down, and Historia serving herself stew, dodging all the fists and flailing limbs. He is the only one their leader turns to, and he dreads the explanation he inevitably has to give.


	14. Foolish

**I received an anonymous request for sleepy!Eren to kiss Mikasa unconsciously in front of squad Levi** **2.0! This takes place after Hanji's experiments in chapter 50 something, from Armin's POV! :)**

* * *

Nothing is, or ever was, meant to last. Not the bank she walks along, the garden her and Auntie have tended to for years, or the tears blotching her skin. She knows this, _has_ known it. So she can't help but feel foolish for wishing her relationship with Eren could ever defy this merciless law of nature.

Maybe it was the agreement they'd made way back then; their promise of forever. Young (too young, she thinks) and naive, they had twined their pinkies and laughed at the idea of ever being apart. And now, she forces herself to stare ahead, purposely ignoring the memories that the sun had seared into this trail. Just around the slight bend in the road is their home and she begins to drag her feet, childishly, because she doesn't doubt that he's there.

Or maybe, he isn't.

She knew he'd be gone any day now, and even though she's upset with him, deep down she selfishly hopes that he looks for her before then. The thought of him leaving without saying goodbye hurts and hollows her chest, despite the possibility being entirely her fault for ignoring him. Balancing her basket in one arm, she uses her free one to gently wipe at her face, futilely attempting to erase hours worth of tears.

She steps wearily into the house, deciding that she doesn't care if he's home or not because it doesn't change the fact that he's leaving her - and Auntie - behind.

"Mikasa?"

She doesn't turn around, knowing that Carla will surely notice just how much of an emotional mess she is.

"Yes?"

"Oh good, you're home," she sighs, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet. "I know you're probably very tired, but could you go to the stable? I wasn't able to finish cleaning up. I'm sorry, I promise it isn't a lot."

She suppresses her agitated sigh. Not because of Carla, but because it's usually his job to take care of that. Couldn't he have helped one last time?

"I'll finish up, it's alright."

"Hurry dear, it's starting to get dark out."

Her eyes follow the beautiful gradient of the sky as she nears the stable, and it soothes her, prompting a deep yawn. Exerting the last of her energy, she drags the door open, just enough for her body to fit through. Her hands move to tie her hair up, but she pauses, gaping at the boy standing in front of her. He mirrors her expression and their silence lingers, right up until the screech of metal pierces both their ears as she retreats, her hands tugging harshly at the door.

"Mikasa! Mikasa, wait a second!"

She veers from the path, weaving through the tall grass and creating her own shortcut towards the house.

"Please! I know you're mad but - hey!" He picks up his pace, beginning to sprint towards her until he blocks her path completely. She creates some distance between them, staring at the ground as he balances his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Mi - kasa," he pants, tilting his face to her. "I really… I really need to talk to you."

She remains defiant in her anger, scowling at the trees when his steps draw nearer. Until suddenly, he yelps, tripping over something hidden within the grass and instinctively, _habitually_ , she moves forward to catch him.

"What did you trip over?" She grunts, lifting him up.

"Nothing," he admits, dusting off his pants. And then he grins at her. "I just figured you'd catch me, like you always do."

She feels her cheeks warm, thinks herself stupid because that wasn't the first time he's used that tactic on her when she'd refused to talk to him. She falls for it every. Single. Time.

"Mikasa. Can I talk to you?" She looks at him, only when he adds, "Please."

She feels her eyes soften and he sighs, relieved. In her periphery, she sees movement from inside the house and her eyes shift there, only to see an empty window with the curtains swaying, like someone had just walked away from it. Then, it dawns on her that Carla knew he was here, that she lied about the stables to get her out here.

"I have something for you."

"Is it something to - _always remember you by_?"

He doesn't falter at the disdain in her clichéd words, smiles at it actually. It confuses her.

"Something like that."

He looks at her, opening his mouth to speak, only to close it in a light grimace.

"I uh…" he breathes an awkward laugh and shuffles his feet, like he doesn't know where to begin. She kind of feels bad. She isn't good with words either.

He seems to have abandoned his explanation entirely, because he steps even closer with a defeated look, stopping when they are toe to toe. The way he grasps her left hand is sudden and then hesitant, making her limbs stiffen and brow furrow even further at the gesture. She stares down at their hands, captivated by the gentle hold he has on her fingers until he pulls out a silver band from his pocket, one that looks all too familiar.

"Is that…" her words falter, eyes widening as he slides it gingerly onto her ring finger.

"My mom's? Well - yeah..."

He looks down at the space between them, sheepishly, cupping her fingers before loosely twining them with his own. She is completely struck with awe, her cheeks beginning to redden as she processes his action and the sole, obvious meaning behind it.

"This is really - out of nowhere. But I wanted to make sure I give you this before I leave. To…" he coughs, his own cheeks turning pink. "To tell you how I uh - feel."

She's dreamt about this, thought up so many ways it could happen. The logical part of her mind always told her that they'd stay that way, only as one-sided fantasies. And even now, it stills feels like that, as if any moment she could wake up with him long gone. But his hands, large and warm on her sleeves, pull her closer until his mouth is at her hairline, gently reminding her that it's anything but a dream.

She wants to shy away when he moves to look at her, but his face… everything about him in this moment mesmerizes her. She dwells in this; their proximity, the way the sunset makes his eyes glow a rare shade she's only seen a few times before.

"Please don't cry."

She puts her hand over her mouth, the ring pressing into her chin as she closes her eyes and shakes her head. He presses a kiss to her brow, and she's happy and excited and so sad because now it's almost impossible for her to say goodbye. Eren wraps an arm around her shoulders and rocks them side to side, their movements soft and rhythmic.

"One day," he murmurs. "One day I'll save enough to get you a better ring-"

" _No_ ," she interrupts, tightening an arm around his waist. "No, this one is perfect."

He laughs breathily, nodding his head against her temple as she stares at the band adorning her finger. For Auntie to give her ring to them like this… she can't even begin to describe the feelings that swell inside, the amount of gratitude she has. He rests his chin on top of her head, calling to her after a few moments.

"Mikasa?"

She sniffles as she moves her fingers up his chest, spreading them to feel his racing heart beneath their tips. She hums into his neck and he clears his throat, lowering his mouth to her ear.

"Will you wait for me?"

She turns her head, their cheeks brushing before she kisses the corner of his jaw, the apple of his cheek, and finally his lips as she curls her fingers around his neck. His hands move indecisively, drifting from her wrists to her face, ultimately settling on her hips with his palms pressing their heat into the bone. She swallows at the added touch, parting not for breath, but for words.

"Of course," she whispers against his mouth, sliding her nose affectionately against his. She speaks a little louder, kissing the corner of his mouth with a little more confidence. "I'll always wait for you, Eren."

His tongue swipes over his lips, and she gets a strange urge to bite them.

"Promise?"

She finds his right pinkie and wraps it with her left, both laughing at the nostalgic gesture. Auntie's ring reflects the last few rays of the sun and their gazes meet, equally bashful and bright. Her pinkie squeezes his and she nods, her eyes welling again at the way his eyes crinkle with mirth and relief.


	15. Remedied

**A request from Tumblr user Jungianca6 for Eren to take care of Mikasa when she's sick :3 Thank you so much my** **friend! 3 I hope you like it!**

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It wasn't gradual, like the way she thought illnesses came. It happens suddenly, like the swiftness of rain clouds as they bloom and stretch over clear skies; an isolated storm that rages relentlessly, and somehow, without her knowing. Apart from her exhaustion, she remembers feeling completely fine by the time she pulled her sheets to her chin, her eyes finally falling to the lull of frosted winds blowing against her window. She only begins to feel the ache in her body when Sasha wakes her with a cautious shake to her shoulder, saying something like _it's late morning_ or maybe it's _late, past morning._ She stirs slightly in response, and Sasha's fingers, cool and soothing, move aside raven bangs to feel her forehead.

Sasha gasps, pressing her entire palm to her skin. She winces as her friend calls out, curling tighter into a ball beneath her sheets until a new hand, smaller but warmer, rests atop her own. It's Armin, from what she can tell and she wills her eyes to open, lids heavy and lined with crust. The brightness of the room furthers her struggle to properly focus, eyes squinting and watering before more boots shuffle into the room. Unlike Sasha's bellows, Armin's voice is gentle, his worry evident.

"Mikasa? What's wrong? What happened?"

 _I don't know_ is what she means to say, but instead, a cough rasps from her throat, her body jerking with its force. His hand pats and rubs between her shoulder blades until she finishes choking around dry air, feeling spent as her limbs slacken. Armin pulls away, prompting her eyes to open again, and she's met with a blue-green gaze that nearly startles her with their proximity. He's kneeling in front of her with Armin behind him, simply looking, and she stares back, hardly listening to Armin and Jean talk.

With a hand on Eren's shoulder, Sasha passes him a glass of water and he nods his thanks, adjusting himself next to her on the mattress.

"Mikasa, can you sit up?"

She attempts wordlessly, frowning at the strange tremor her arms take when she pushes up on them. Her head wants to roll right off her neck it seems, making such a straightforward movement into such a lethargic process. His hands, one at her back and the other wrapped around her wrist, aid and steady her as they try again, successful when she finally settles against the headboard. She coughs into her arm, barely hearing Sasha's comment of her having serious bedhead before Jean elbows her, eliciting a hiss. Armin carefully places the glass of water in her grasp and she downs half of it, slumping back in relief. Finally coming to a (somewhat) conscious level, she gathers her bearings, peeling the sheets off her lap with her free hand. Her legs are like lead when she goes to stand but Eren halts her, blocking her path.

"What are you doing?"

The cup is placed on a desk, and the heels of her palms press into her eyes to wipe away the moisture that continues to build, giving herself a moment to wait out the wave of nausea.

"All of us have things to get done today." She notes how congested she sounds, discouraged by its coarseness. Clearing her throat, she fights the urge to cough, as if she's trying to prove a point she knows to be futile.

He shakes his head, lifting her legs back onto the bed. "No, you did this last time," he pulls her blanket back over her, and she doesn't resist, a bit stunned by his actions. "You have to stay and rest."

He stands, jutting his thumb over his shoulder, " _they_ have things to get done today."

She tilts her head up at him. "What about you?"

Eren pulls a seat from the desk, situating at her side, " I'll be here. Taking care of you."

Her head feels dizzier at that, and she doesn't meet his eyes, knowing it's impossible to fight the color she can feel blossoming on her face.

"Eren's right, Mikasa! Your temperature is way too high. Even your cheeks are pink."

She means to glare at Sasha for pointing it out, but is then glad that she had blamed her blush on her condition rather than her embarrassment.

A scoff erupts at the foot of her bed.

"Why do _you_ have to stay here and take care of her?"

"Why do _you_ care?"

"Guys," Armin interrupts, tentatively moving between the two boys. "Don't start. We're wasting time, let's just go and help the Captain. Connie and Historia are already outside."

"I'll make you something later, Mikasa!"

"Get some rest."

Armin follows the other two out, throwing a smile over his shoulder. "I'll see you two later."

There's something else in his smile that makes her cheeks darken, and she stares down at an empty space on the bed, letting silence ensue between her and Eren.

"I told you not to give me your coat."

She looks to him for a moment before she breathes out subtly through her nose, leaning back as she recalls the day before, "Yours got all tattered. It's fine."

"It isn't fine. You're sick."

"I usually don't catch these things so easily. If I didn't, you would've gotten ill instead. I'll be better in no time… I just need a day." Her stomach rolls and she winces, breathing out. "Maybe two."

He snorts softly, incredulously, reaching an arm towards her. The backs of his fingers meet her forehead, moving down to her temple and she watches him, unknowingly reveling in his attentiveness.

"I'll be right back," he suddenly says, already halfway towards the door. She snaps out of her little reverie by the time he walks out, wanting to bury herself beneath her sheets, a bit flustered. Remembering her friends earlier comment, she smooths down her hair, sighing when she feels the locks bounce wildly back into place. Her hand searches inside the nearest drawer, settling on tying her hair back with one of Sasha's bands when she can't find her comb. It's strange how quickly her arms tire out, but even more frustrating as she continuously takes breaks from gathering what she can of her hair, only for them to fall back into her face.

When she finally gathers an ample amount into the tie, Eren comes back into the room, a bucket in one hand and a small towel in the other.

"It's getting longer," he notes, placing the bucket on the ground before dipping the towel inside.

"A little… it's still hard to tie it back."

He doesn't add more to the subject, only asking that she lays back down. She complies, closing her eyes when the damp cloth gently presses along her hairline.

"You won't get in trouble?"

"Trouble?"

"With Captain Levi…"

"Armin told me not to worry about it," he says, smoothing more of her bangs back and it's pleasant, the way the air cools her skin when pulls the cloth away. "I trust that he'll cover for me. And for you."

She hums, trying to relax under his ministrations but feels her self-consciousness growing with his scrutiny. She wonders if he can see the way her eyes move beneath their lids, as if they're following the movement of his hand, or if he can feel just how rigid she is. His fingers, gentle and just beneath her jaw, turn her face to reach the other side, and she hopes that he doesn't notice the cadence of her pulse, how it changes just knowing he wants to care for her.

Eventually, she accustoms to this; the rhythmic swipe of the towel, nothing but their breathing and the occasional drops of water heard as time passes on silently, just like the glittering flakes that fall and collect on the window sill.

When she opens her eyes, she doesn't see Eren.

A book takes his place on the chair with the bucket sitting beside it, the cloth hanging over its rim. Her joints pop as she stirs and stretches, and almost immediately, she feels the need to empty her bladder. Gingerly, she stands on her feet, tossing the end if her scarf over her shoulder. She maintains her balance as the haze of sleep wears off bit by bit, guided by the flickering candle light. They nearly crash into one another, her as she leaves the bathroom and him as he comes down the hall, a steaming bowl in his hand.

"Sorry," they murmur at the same time, catching each other off once again until he offers a small smile, whispering _jinx_.

She huffs an amused breath, musing aloud that she already has bad luck. He chuckles breathily, both looking at the bowl in his hands.

"Sasha made you soup. I was coming to wake you, but… yeah."

"Oh. Thank you, Eren."

"Yeah," he says, and then they are both walking back to the room the girls share. "Are you feeling better?"

She hums, suppressing a yawn. "I'm fine."

They trade the items in their hands, and as she settles at the edge of her mattress with the soup, he places the candle where her glass had been earlier.

"You ate dinner already?"

"Yes, everyone just finished… it's good, isn't it?"

She nods, not the least bit surprised as Sasha was the one who made it.

"It almost reminds me of mom's. I miss it."

She swallows, looking at him softly. "I can make it for you sometime." He looks down at his lap, and then at her, a fondness in his eyes. She tucks her chin in her scarf, timidly.

"I'd like that. You make it just like her. Just focus on getting better first."

He refuses to let her wash the dish, promising to take of it later. She insists, rolling her head from side to side, her face twisting in discomfort.

"Are you okay? Is something hurting?"

"My neck," she sighs, rubbing over a particularly nasty knot. "I think I slept on it wrong."

Do you - ah - want me to…" she knows what he's asking, and offers a reassuring smile.

"If you wouldn't mind…"

When he sits behind her, she begins to uncoil her scarf, folding it into her lap as he moves aside her lopsided ponytail, settling his palms on each junction between her neck and shoulders. The jerk of her limbs is subtle, immediately followed by a breath slipping past the gentle clench of her teeth. He pulls his hands back, worried.

"Did I hurt you?"

" _No_ ," she assures, searching blindly for his hand, holding it back against the blazing skin of her neck. "You're hands - they're cold, but… it feels nice." He pants out his relief, telling her not to do that and she bites back another smile.

His thumbs knead the back of her neck, and she drops her head forward, closing her eyes.

He adds a little more pressure, rolling over the knot. "Is this okay?" Goosebumps lightly prickle over her skin.

"Mmhm. I think you're better at this than I am," she says, trying to alleviate some awkwardness. Hours of training had left them all sore, but she always felt that Eren worked the hardest out of all of them, to the point of overworking himself. When even the simplest of movements made him hiss, she'd rub his shoulders and arms until his protests died on his tongue, replaced instead with reluctant gratitude.

"Ha… I doubt it."

His hands get tired soon enough, and she thanks him, reaching for her scarf. He beats her to it, and from his place behind her, he wraps it around her neck. She looks down and touches the fabric, running her fingers over the familiar patches of stitch. The pain throbbing against her temples begins to quiet, and despite the hours of rest she had, her lids begin to droop.

"You should get some rest." She turns to face him. "You must be tired."

"Kind of," he says, cracking his knuckles. "It's not like I've done much."

"Still. It's getting late."

"Alright, Alright," he whines, and then he's laying back on her bed, making her eyes widen a fraction.

"Don't… I don't want you to catch something."

" _I'll be fine_." He crosses his arms behind his head, meaning to mock her, but it has an opposite effect. "I'll leave in a little bit."

"...Okay." She lies next to him, creating a comfortable space between them. Her eyes shift to his, but they're already closed, his usual, light scowl creasing his face. She faces the other side, watching the candle as it burns low, the flame already reaching the end of the wick. It's the last thing she remembers before the first rays of daylight stream into her room again. The other beds in the room remain unoccupied as they were the night before and she furrows her brows, absentmindedly wondering just what time it is. She stiffens when she hears his snore, blushes when she realizes his forehead is pressed into her shoulder. The room is chilled and they're both lying on top of her sheets, but she can't ignore just how warm she feels, blood rapidly flowing into her hands, her face. With how early it seems to be in the morning, she decides not to disturb him and falls back to sleep, amusedly wondering just how mortified he's going to be once he wakes.


	16. Light Upon

**A request from anonymous, asking for Eren to only make it see Mikasa taken away, and for her to be later saved by the MP. When Maria falls, they meet again.**

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They meant to take him, to sell him along with her. But when the military police arrived, they decided to abandon the idea entirely, thinking themselves lucky if they can escape with just her. His eyes, glossed over with pain, stare into hers. They burn themselves into her memory, apologies communicated with every slow blink as tears begin to well with fear, with guilt. It's her fault, all of it. She struggles against the men dragging her out the back window, screaming out for the stranger lying broken on the floorboards, but they only tug her harder, glass shards sinking into her calves.

Even when it's over a mile and a few precise shots later, her face, caked in everything from dirt to blood, remains stricken. She can see the empty faces of her captivators, making out the marks that small, brave hands had left on their skin before the men got the better of him. She flinches when a soldier pulls her upright, the urgency in her voice startling him when her ties are finally cut loose.

"Where is he?"

He kneels in front of her, setting down his lantern. "You're safe, kid. He's not going to hurt you anymore."

She shakes her head vigorously. "That boy," she clarifies, pointing over his shoulder. "The one back there - is he okay?"

He turns around, holding up his light to the path behind him. "There was another one?"

Her heart sinks as she pictures him, still lying there alone and hurt without else anyone knowing. She stumbles in that direction, determined to find him but is stopped short, both by a firm hand and the warmth streaming from her wounds. He motions for the only other soldier with them to go check, easing the pressure on her shoulder.

"Someone is going to see." She continues to stare after the other soldier until he squeezes her arm, prompting her to look at him. Then he smiles, sympathetic. "Why don't we get you out of here, huh? You're hurt."

She looks down at her feet, bare, scraped, and muddied. Despite the friendly front he takes, she can't help but distrust him, scared that he'll try to trick her like the men behind her tried to trick that boy. Father warned her about leaving with people she didn't know. But he isn't here, and neither is her mother, and the only stranger she wants to see could very well be with her parents.

"Where will you take me?"

He stands at his full height, sticking two fingers into his mouth to sound a whistle that reaches and echoes between distant trees,

"Into the nearest town." He takes off his military jacket, gingerly wrapping it over her shoulders. "Maybe we can try to find someone from your family who can take you in."

Long lashes bat slow, fighting a losing battle against the tears she can't seem to control. Her arms completely slacken, and she feels truly hollow when she says, "I don't have any."

He isn't there when they pass the cabin again. They say that his father came and took him home just before her return, and she sinks impossibly more into the saddle, diminished. But through her disappointment, she feels something like relief because he is, in the very least, _alive_. She remembers his eyes, measures the intensity they had upon meeting them. She thinks about looking into them and thanking their owner over and over, wonders if they'd be happy to see her. There's a vague familiarity to their color, placed somewhere in the fog of her early memories. They took a different shape, framed with glass lenses and always capable of diagnosing her with a single look.

It isn't long before the wall she's only ever heard of comes into view, and although it is purely founded on intuition, she believes he's in there; somewhere inside this town the soldier calls Shiganshina.

He's never seen the streets become quite as still, or heard a hush so quiet in the midst of people. But it's absolutely terrifying, just how chaotic everything became in a matter of seconds. Armin pulled at him desperately, struggling to keep his hold through the tens of people bumping into them. He doesn't remember losing Armin in the crowds, hears only the piercing ringing in his ear as he moves against the current of widespread panic, a vestige of the striking light.

There's another flash, though this time, it's behind his eyes. He's on the ground before he can feel the pain, and looking up to the person he collided with, he finds himself completely numb.

It's unmistakable; the slant of her eyes, the darkness of her hair, the lightness of her skin. He remembers her so distinctly, her memory kept alive through dreams and nightmares and everything in between. Her expression mirrors his, it seems, their trance broken when a leg shoves into her shoulder. He pulls her up, clumsily, shielding her from the horde threatening to trample her and the shingles that continuously fall from rooftops.

They don't exchange a word and just like Armin, she pulls at him, tugs his sleeve to run with the crowd, silently telling him to hurry, to leave with her. _My mom my mom_ is all he can say, hoping that it's enough for her to let go and it is, as she relents the tug on his arm. He says his apologies over again even after she's no longer in sight because somehow it feels like he's failed her _again_. He curses whatever deity for bringing her to him in the worst possible time as he runs home, turning onto the streets he's walked all his life and watching them empty with a sick stomach.

Trying to lift the splintered beam proves to be the greatest challenge of his life. He can hear his mom begging, not for her life but for his and it's _devastating_ , and it's enough to bring frustrated tears to his eyes. He pushes himself, using every ounce of his strength and for a second, he is convinced that it's his doing when the beam lifts slightly higher. But then he hears her grunts at his side, taking both him and his mother by surprise. Together, they pull, lift, and they struggle, even when they're told not to, even when a titan stalks in their direction.

Hannes-san is the one who takes them both away despite his cries to leave him behind, and he cannot recall the moments where they reached the wall or when their feet finally stepped onto the wooden dock to safety. Hannes leaves and he does not feel anything when Armin finds him again, not relief, nor the burn in his lungs and hands. There is still smoke rising over the walls, illuminated and outlined by the last rays of day, their shadows swirling, looming over them. He is reminded over again, wiping furiously at his lids as if it could erase the images behind them. His head falls to his knees, defeated, done, and he only lifts it back up when he feels someone move to sit in front of him.

Mikasa watches him, worried yet patient, her gaze flicking down before she lifts her wounded fingers to squeeze his own. Grey eyes blink slowly at him and he sniffles, looking back at her with sad eyes until she embraces him without warning, moving between his legs and coiling her arms around him. He takes his time to lean on her a little more, not exactly reciprocating the gesture but she doesn't question it, placing an understanding hand on his back. It's bizarre, the fact that they are strangers and yet they've been through more hell together than two people should go through in a lifetime. But he supposes they were never truly strangers since that night, and her embrace conveys it all.

When his tears are spent, he succumbs to sleep, drifting to the gentle waves of the canal, ebbing and flowing against the boat. His head falling onto her shoulder is completely accidental, but years from now, he'll learn from Armin that she wept upon the contact, utterly relieved to have found him and though he didn't realize it then, he shared the sentiment, more profoundly than he thought himself capable.


	17. Hidden Twilight

**A request from anonymous for Eren trying to find a way to rescue a badly injured Mikasa (I live for these kinds of prompts).** **This takes place around chapter 56 when Eren is first taken by Kenny in the forest. In this au, Squad Levi tries to rescue him and Historia then instead of later.**

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With the evening comes a kind of silence, a calm that sets with the sun. Though it does little to assuage the thoughts racing through his mind, and instead counterproductively adds to them. His chest and all the organs within burn for oxygen, the space they're hemmed in making the need nearly unbearable. Yet he forces himself to wait beneath the thicket, breaths and movements bated to avoid the careful eye of the enemy.

The scent of metallic is strong as it permeates the air between them and he holds promises behind gritted teeth, begrudged and guiltily. She stirs as quiet as she can manage beneath him, fear overtaking their discomfort when dry leaves abruptly crunch beneath them. The footsteps that had become ambient cease all at once, drawing nearer in the moments following and he instinctively holds her closer, waiting with a hand raised readily to his mouth. His last resort.

"What are you all doing?"

He blinks, stiffening at the sudden voice. His eyes peer through the branches, catching fragmented figures that are close, dangerously so.

"Looking for Eren, sir. He ran off in this direction with another."

"It seems like that girl was injured. They couldn't have gotten far."

"No," the man grunts, adjusting the firearm in his hand. "I got her from behind. Lugging someone around won't get anyone far. If the kid is smart, he'd leave her. And he didn't look dumb to me, so what are you lot standing here for?"

"We heard something - just now, somewhere in this immediate spot."

His heart thrums louder, faster in his ears. Neither of them breathe.

"It ever occur to you that this is a forest? And that there are hundreds of animals small enough to startle?" He scoffs, treading only a few feet away. "Quit wastin' time. The sun is going to set soon. Just keep moving forward and find the rest of his squad. He's bound to be with them."

Though they can hardly contain their relief at being alone once more, it is short lived. Carefully, he helps her out and with at hand at the base of her skull, he leans her back against a tree trunk. His stomach pits the moment he peels back her cloak to examine her wound in full, hands hovering over her abdomen undecidedly and he feels truly at a loss, wondering what he has to sacrifice in order to finally protect his friends from harm. Sensing his remorse, she curls her fingers around his, pulling his attention back.

"My gear… I don't think…" With only a few words she is breathless, and she closes her eyes with a slow intake of air, blinking back up at him with determination to finish her sentence.

"I don't think it's damaged." She pulls her hand away to reach for the belt fastened at her chest and he catches on, immediately taking her hand back in his.

" _No_ ," he says firmly and her eyes plead with him, her expression communicating what she verbally cannot. "There has to be another way to get both of us out of here. Or at the very least, get _you_ to safety. This…" He looks down at the bloom of crimson just below her ribs and he shakes his head. "We'll be fine, I just have to think."

The last rays of sunlight reach the tops of the trees and he begins to panic, his eyes roving each of them as if an answer was woven within their branches. They have an hour at best before nightfall, and with nothing to see or navigate with -

"You heard him, Eren… You can't get anywhere - with me."

Her chin dips behind her scarf and he eyes the velvet material, noting small, jagged tears along the old stitching. Its coil is sloppy and dirtied from her fall and he adjusts it, fixing his gaze at her neck.

"Of course I can, Mikasa." The backs of his fingers graze the smooth lining of her jaw, and he swallows at the touch, how foreign it all is to him. Then, he regains the grit he's infamous for, places his palms on her shoulders and wills for her to believe in him. As long as there was still air in their lungs, he vowed to never succumb to hopelessness. "I did it before and I can do it again."

The tension in her limbs seems to ease under his hands, something softening in her eyes. Hidden under the tightness of her lids, their color had dulled with pain. A kind that he had seen before. But then grey began to shimmer silver.

"Okay," she murmurs, punctuating with a single nod. "I trust you."


	18. Hereafter

**A request from anonymous for terminally ill Eren to propose to Mikasa (*cries*) Anon also requested for it to be set in Isayama's high school AU, and I love it! This was for Eremika Week - Day 2: Wedding. It doesn't entirely fit the theme, but I think it's pretty close haha.**

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How she wraps herself around him is dangerously addictive and even more tortuous. She tangles her legs with his, their twined fingers resting on his chest and he raises their hands, closing his eyes as he kisses the back of her palm. Her sigh heats the base of his neck and he feels so drowsy...

"What are you thinking about?"

His lids peel open, and beneath their hands, his chest begins to feel heavier. She deserves the truth, he owes it to her. It bubbles up his throat leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. In the privacy of his room, the opportunity to tell her presents itself but she props her chin on his shoulder and he opens an eye, greeted with a smile that has him swallowing back his words, pushing them once again to the back of his mind.

"About how cold your fingers are. It's like I'm holding hands with a Snowman."

She rolls her eyes but her smile is bright, contagious. Her hand begins to retract but he holds it even tighter. Closing his eye, he tells her he's joking and she curls her fingers into her palm, moving far as his arm will allow when she returns to her place beside him.

"Whatever."

"Don't be like that."

"I'm not being like anything."

He shifts so that they face one another and lifts a hand, swiping his thumb over the dark color of her lip.

"You're pouting."

"You're seeing things."

"Mikasa."

"This is my neutral face."

He places his hand behind his head, laying back down with a smile. " _Sure_." His grin broadens at her sigh.

"You just love to argue, don't you, Eren."

"It's what I'm known for, yes."

Her leg kicks at his and he grunts, letting her win this one. "Alright, alright," he placates, angling his chin to her "Mikasa."

She looks at him, deadpanned. "What."

Tell her.

"Forgive me," he says.

She blinks before putting a black nail to her chin, humming in a contemplative pitch. His palm sidles up and down her forearm, the charms of her bracelet chiming with his movements. She searches his face before lying back with him, conceding and combing back the fringe of his hair with her fingers.

"Alright."

He scoots closer, taking his turn to bury his face in her neck while she rakes her nails over his scalp. The strands of his hair occasionally catch on her rings and he hisses, sounding rightfully irritated when he asks her why she wears so many. She only shrugs, vaguely explaining that she just likes them and assures them that she'll be careful. After several minutes of silence, a thought crosses his mind and he nudges her hip.

"Hey."

"Hm."

"Your birthday is next week." She hums in agreement this time, the movement of her fingers becoming less focused with the kiss he presses to the center of her throat.

"We should go out and do something." Another kiss.

"Mhmm."

"Or you could come over again," he practically purrs, pausing to tug at the strip of lace around her throat, laving his tongue over her skin. "Stay here and celebrate with me." He knows she's blushing when her neck warms considerably against his face, and she gives him a real slap when he laughs at her.

"Seriously though, I do want to go out and do something for your birthday." He wants to do something more than just gifts and cake, for this year's and for the ones he can be there for, make them special because he knows that he won't be around to celebrate all of them. He hollows at the thought once again and frowns into her collarbone, wondering why he keeps putting off telling her. How do you even begin to explain something like this? He's thought about outwardly saying it, but it all sounds too casual in his head, something that's insensitive even for him. Even if he did manage to tell her, what then? Would she treat him differently? Save herself the trouble and leave? It would be a smarter choice in his opinion, but selfishly, it's for this reason he thinks that he can't tell her. At least not yet. He may just die an earlier death by her hands.

Her thumb soothes over the still pulsating area she hit, and he shakes the negative thoughts, taking in her light scent. Though the future is a rather bleak topic for him, he tries to imagine Mikasa's, pictures the kind of woman she'll become in even after he's gone. She'd be successful for sure, doing something like teaching or art, or whatever she has her mind set on doing. She'd have a cat, one that's eerily silent yet affectionate only towards the ones closest to it, like her. And maybe she'd let her hair grow longer and maybe stop wearing those rings, all except one that would adorn her left hand. He wants to hug her closer and turn away all at the same time, struggling to control the moisture that stings his eyes and the jealousy he has at the thought of her being with someone else.

"Hey, Mikasa?"

"You're really talkative tonight."

He ignores her remark.

"I wanna ask you something," he manages through the lump in his throat, still unsure of how to word his question.

"Okay," she yawns. He steels himself, drawing an anxious breath.

"Will you stay with me?"

"I can't stay the entire night, you know that already -"

" _No_ ," he breathes, amused. "No that isn't what I mean."

It takes a moment, but then Mikasa is moving to look down at him and he meets her gaze fully. "What do you mean then?" From the way she watches him, he's sure that she knows the answer to her own question. He spells it out for her anyway, hopeful and nervous.

"I meant… forever."

The soft blush that had already made its place on her cheeks intensifies, spreading over the bridge of her nose and up to the tips of her ears.

"Eren," she whispers gently, and he already knows what she's going to say. "We're only 16… anything could change."

He sits up on his forearm, looking down at her. "That's exactly why," he says firmly. "Anything could change. Something could happen with me or you. We aren't guaranteed anything, including our lives."

She seems taken back by the serious route their lighthearted conversation has taken, regarding him with worried eyes.

"Why are you talking like that? Is something wrong?"

His jaw falls open slightly, moving to speak but the words refuse to come out. Guiltily, he averts his eyes and presses his mouth into a thin line. She begins to sit up but he stops her, carefully pushing her back down.

"I'm just saying… I don't want to lose what you and I have. It's a lot to ask, I know. And you're right. We're only sixteen and it isn't the eighteen hundreds." This pulls a small smile from her and he mirrors her expression. "But - please Mikasa… will you stay with me?"

She nudges aside the hand holding her down and she sits up, bringing his face to hers. When they pull apart she continues to press kisses all over his face, undoubtedly leaving traces of her dark lipstick all over his skin but he couldn't feel any happier, any more alive when she finally says _yes_.


	19. Carpus

**I was inspired (which honestly is such a rarity nowadays) by seeing the Eastern Clan Mark in the latest chapter of the manga, and I really wanted to write about it cause holy crap that's probably on Mikasa's wrist :o**

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Each blink was heavy, slow like the hours she had spent willing herself to fall asleep. Reluctant to wake her new friend, she settled for the company of her own thoughts, staring up at the beams that supported the place she had recently begun to call 'home.' On the inside of her wrist is the only remnant she has from her life before, and though she tries not to actively think about it, she traces its odd shape, contemplating the meaning behind it. He is the first to ask about the mark when her bandages get wet from washing dishes, pointing at it as she sets aside the damp bindings.

"What is that on your wrist?"

The question startles her and, feeling inexplicably pressured, she isn't sure how to explain it to him.

Tradition had its role in her life before her parents died. Her mother made it a point to teach her about their culture, nearly everything from methods of embroidery to songs and indigenous beliefs. With her coming of age is the memory of hands, pale and thin as her own, wiping away stray tears before they wrapped bandages around the small circumference of her wrist, each layer covering the raw skin that puckered along the harsh, languid strokes of ink.

"My mom put it there. It's supposed to be something that gets passed down..." She trails off, unsure if she's making any sense to him.

"Passed down?"

"From a parent to their child. And once that child grows up and has children of their own, they give it to them when they are of age." She hands him another dish to dry. "That's what my mom said."

Eren stares at it a moment more before turning over and inspecting his own wrists. "You and I are the same age, and I don't have anything cool like that," he pouts.

Her gaze shifts from the suds covering the plate to her skin. Since receiving it, she never really knew what to think of it, other than the fact that it was important to her "people," as her mom put it. She feels a small burst of pride at his compliment. "You think it's cool?"

"Sure. But I think the wings of freedom would be even cooler. I should tell my mom about it."

Of course, Mrs. Yeager scolds him later in the evening for even suggesting such a thing. In their room, he looks for her eyes in the dark and swears to get one someday. His frustration from arguing with his mom gradually diminishes as he describes what he'd like his to look like. As she listens to him, something she has never felt before began to flow through her veins, trickling into what was left of her heart. For the first time in days, she actually _battles_ sleep to keep hearing his voice, right until she caves to the weight of her lids.

Years later, she's in almost the same position as that night, trying just as hard to stay awake. But this time, they couldn't be any closer and it isn't his eyes but his lips that outline her tattoo, the stubble on his face making her squirm.

"What…"

"You're tickling me."

He huffs a warm breath against her wrist before swiping a thumb over the brand. "It still looks pretty cool." She bends her knee against his hip with a lazy smile, brushing back the long strands that fall in his face.

"Did it hurt a lot?" he asks into her palm.

It's been nearly ten years since then, but she doesn't think she could ever forget the throbbing ache that lasted days after, how awfully tender it was after Eren saved her and cut the ties loose.

"At the time, yes." They both continue to stare at her wrist, and she follows up with her own question. "Do you still want one?"

He shrugs, slightly frowning.

"I don't even know if I could. If the needle pricks the wrong way, someone could get hurt."

She looks at him sadly and his eyes tell her not to feel sorry for him, falling back to the fading ink. When he crawls to lay beside her, she turns into him with a yawn, smoothing a hand across his chest.

"Did your mom have the same thing?"

"Mm. I wanted to be just like her, and I couldn't wait to get mine. But as soon as she started, I didn't want it anymore."

His chest shakes with light amusement beneath her hand, and she knocks her head into his shoulder affectionately. The silence that follows drifts her mind back to that day, and though the memory of her mother's face is fading, she could never forget her voice, soft as moonlight. _I wonder if I can really pass this down to our children. Like she wanted me to..._

"...Our children?"

Her eyes fly open and meet his, every ounce of her blood heating her skin uncomfortably. She hadn't realized she spoke out loud, and she blames her fatigue for speaking so openly about a dream she never thought twice about keeping it to herself. With all the pressure and risks they had, a child was - _is_ \- out of the question.

"Um… I don't know what I'm saying. I must be really tired," she surmises, grimacing as she turns away. Him not responding makes it even more embarrassing for her, and she wishes she could've just fallen asleep before this conversation even started. She contemplates apologizing and maybe even offering an awkward good night, but instead, she nearly jumps when his hand pulls her onto her back. He's over her within a second and bends his head down, muffling her small noise of surprise. She is already panting when he kisses the base of her neck, trailing them up and up until he reaches her ear.

"If they're anything like you, I think they'll handle the pain just fine."

Chills rattle her body at the lowness of his voice and she draws away his shirt, marking his bare shoulder blades when he bunches her gown in his hands and pushes his hips against hers.


	20. Baby's Breath

**A request from anonymous for Mikasa to tell Eren that she's pregnant! with all the angst this ship has had in the last couple chapters of the manga, I needed something more lighthearted :')**

* * *

At first, she thinks she's sick.

It could've have been something she ate the day before, or maybe the shift in season is to blame. Whatever the case is, she doesn't give much thought to how she fell ill as her stomach empties out its contents. When lifts herself off the bathroom floor, she thinks, albeit with a bit dizziness, that the worst is over. Figuring that this is nothing that drinking something hot and sleep can't fix, she decides to take it easy for the rest of the day, trading her broom and gardening tools for a cup of her favorite tea and one of Armin's books.

She's hardly halfway done with the drink before pressure begins building on her bladder. In the seat, she shifts and adjusts herself until nothing is comfortable and she has no choice but to get up. Another wave of nausea greets her movements and she merely stands in place as her stomach protests, willing the feeling to go away with steady breaths and closed eyes. The way these instances come and go through her week is bewildering and distracting as she anticipates the next bout of sickness. The first couple times seemed normal, and she thought it had finally subsided after a day or so of nothing. But as time passes, her body is back and forth with being alright and then being riddled with odd symptoms, constantly teetering between both extremes and she only knows of one thing to do.

With a handwritten note left on the table, she feels slightly better when her head sinks into the pillow early in the afternoon, limbs falling and coiling on his side of the mattress as she surrenders to the battle of staying awake, of pretending she's alright. It's her last memory before a hand is at her shoulder, whispers of her name prompting her to sit up and she feels nothing short of relief at the sight of him beside her, the orange glow of the sun reflecting the glint of worry in his eyes.

"What's going on Mikasa?"

She melts back into the warmth of their sheets, reaching for the hand that's propping him up beside her head. "I think I'm getting sick."

Immediately, he presses the same palm to her forehead, the backs of his fingers smoothing over her temple and she sighs delightfully at his touch.

"You don't have a fever."

"No?"

"No. How long have you been feeling like this?"

Her eyes fall to the laces on his chest as she contemplates. "Since the beginning of this week..."

"How come you haven't said anything till now?"

"I didn't think it would last this long. It's strange, how I feel…" It's difficult thinking about how to explain it because even in her own mind it doesn't make sense.

"You should have told me sooner."

"...I'm sorry."

She doesn't know what to make of his drawn out breath, but with his fingers carding through her hair, he urges her to open her eyes. "You're probably just tired. It's okay to relax now and then you know."

The corners of her mouth pull up until she is smiling softly at him and his weak lecture, even after she closes her eyes again and says, "I know."

When the moon takes the sun's place in the sky, she finds herself draped over the toilet bowl once more without any recollection of how she managed to get there. Eren is the only one there to cushion her body as it slumps back, spent.

"You need to see a doctor," is the first thing he says in the morning when he hands her a glass of water.

"Good doctors require money that you and I both know we don't have right now."

He casts his eyes to the floorboards and she knows he's racking his brain for some solution. She doesn't like how this is becoming a huge deal.

"I'll be fine," she placates, voice slightly muffled against the rim of the glass.

"This isn't fine Mikasa. This doesn't seem like a typical virus. We should -" he pauses, his expression completely changing.

Her brows furrow. "We should… what?"

"Hanji-san," he replies, already pulling her out of bed. "I think she could help you."

* * *

"Where's Eren?"

"Back home. I asked him to buy some food and do a couple things while I came here to see you."

Hanji hums in acknowledgment, the sound rising into a familiar pitch.

"Thank you again, Hanji-san."

Her old superior simply throws a smile over her shoulder and nods before completely turning around to face her. "The trip wasn't too long I hope."

"Not really. It's nice to leave home every now and then."

"I agree. Now then," she claps her hands and scoots her seat closer to hers, "Based on what you've told me, I have a couple things to ask you."

"Alright."

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

"My…?" Her mouth hangs slightly agape as she tries to remember. It was never really something she thought to keep track of. "Maybe a couple months ago? I haven't had it recently."

"I see. Now, bear with me on this next one. Are you sexually active?"

Instantly, her cheeks flush with heat but Hanji maintains her serious composure, waiting for an answer. Where is she going with this? She couldn't possibly be suggesting -

Then, the realization is like a collapsing floodgate and the thought is the single thing that remains after her mind blanks and her body numbs. Her hands and watering eyes fall to her abdomen and her heart is thumping in her ears, each beat loud and demanding for the oxygen her lungs have suddenly become void of.

"Am I -?" Breathless, she looks up and through the tears blurring her vision to see Hanji already smiling at her.

"It seems so. Congratulations Momma."

* * *

She can't stop rubbing her stomach. There's no bump yet, but somehow she thinks she can feel the child. She resists the urge to whisper to her belly on the ride home, but when she thinks about the baby, her imagination becomes as vivid as it was when she was still a child herself.

Eren jumps to his feet the moment she enters the house, rushing over with hands on her shoulders.

"So? Did you find out what's wrong?"

Tears begin to collect in her eyes with him in front of her and she can see the panic in his own eyes as he notices the moisture, how he's already taking this all wrong. She almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but instead, she raises a hand and wipes at her cheeks.

"Yeah. I did."

"What is it?" he asks quickly. "How long will it take for you to get better?"

It takes everything to contain her emotions as she tries to drop hints. "Hanji-san said it would take about nine months."

He jerks his head back slightly, the lines of his face creasing in confusion. "Nine months? Why nine?"

A short breath of amusement falls from her lips and he tilts his head with a nervous chuckle, his grip on her arms lessening with the tension. "Why are you acting strange?"

She answers by guiding his hands to her stomach, slowly repeating herself. "It's going to take nine months, Eren."

His mouth forms the start of words but she never hears them, watching as he puts two and two together with a swipe of his thumbs over the fabric covering her skin.

"No…" he whispers incredulously. Then he's laughing, and then they're both crying.

"A baby?"

She nods.

"Really?"

She nods again, more vigorously. Her face and neck are peppered with kisses and oh my god 's until he wraps his arms tentatively around her waist, rocking them side to side. A baby, he repeats, resting his head on her shoulder. She lightly knocks her head against his, murmuring, "Congratulations Papa."


	21. Silver Lining

**My friend and Tumblr user Jungiana6 requested Mikasa trying to help a depressed Eren! Thank you so much for the request :') I wrote this with a little inspiration from Isayama's recent Q &A with fans.**

* * *

For a while, she chose not to say anything. She wants to believe that she did it to give him space, but in truth, she was afraid of what she would hear. To this day, she has not recovered from learning about his and Armin's curse and she fears that asking him would bring about even more devastation. Because there are still memories he hasn't told her about, ones that belong to a time before either of them and she knows, can see the way they assault his conscious in sporadic intervals. Eren shakes her off the moment she comes to his aid and, with excuses thrown over his shoulder, he disappears until she seeks him out late in the evening.

"Why do you work late?" She asks one night, frowning at the slouch in his stance. "You've done so much already these past months. You should rest, at least a little more -"

He drops his head and sighs, irritated. She defeatedly considers abandoning the subject, again for his sake, but he turns around and the sight startles her.

"... Since when do you drink?"

He tips his head back in response, finishing what's left in the glass.

Despite the frustration that swells with this one-sided conversation, she remains calm and persists. "How much have you had?"

"Probably more than enough," he admits, refilling the cup. "Do you want some?"

For a minute, she actually thinks about it. The amber liquid is tempting with its supposed promise to make one forget, to help numb the pains of her past and present. She feels it; the ache in her chest that finds its way into her hands, in the arches of her feet and she weakens with a sudden onslaught of exhaustion.

She takes the glass from his hand, stares down at its contents with deep contemplation before putting it off to the side. She doesn't want to test that theory, not tonight. Not with him in such a state.

"Come," she says, tugging him by his sleeve. He stumbles a bit over his feet and she twines their arms, guiding them both towards the door.

"The paperwork -"

"Forget it," she replies curtly. "Someone else can take care of it in the morning."

After they round the second corner, he begins untangling himself from her grasp. "I can walk on my own, you know."

"It didn't seem like you could."

"Well I can," he shoots back, distancing himself from her.

Her tongue burns with pain as she bites down on it and she vehemently wonders where this attitude came from. But not minutes later, he surprises her with an apology. "I know you're trying to help. I don't mean - I shouldn't -"

"It's fine… it's just -" she casts her eyes to the side, hoping that her next words won't upset him. "You shouldn't be drinking. You are supposed to retest your shifting abilities tomorrow." He says nothing, simply walking beside her as they tread this familiar path. It doesn't take much for her to worry about him, but this behavior is beyond concerning. Never has he been irresponsible when it came to their duties, especially one as important as tomorrow's. Him working late, his mood swings, and now the drinking. The abnormality of it all is so blatant but she doesn't know what to do or how to help him, and it bothers her as much as it scares her.

When they locate his door, she pushes it open and sits him down on the mattress, seating herself on the empty space at his side.

"Why are you working so late?"

He runs a hand down his unshaven face, letting it fall to his lap. For the first time since she found him, he looks at her.

"It helps distract me."

She slants her head, prodding a little further in hopes that he'll talk more. "From what?"

To her dismay, he becomes withdrawn again and at this, she lets go of her resolve of coaxing answers out of him, decides to quit pretending like she doesn't know. "It's the memories, isn't it?"

His eyes fall shut, flinching at the question and he just nods, finishing the water. "You knew?"

Mindlessly, her fingers trace over the folds of her skirt. "When we were imprisoned, you talked to Armin about your father's memories. You woke up screaming because of them." Neither of them look at one another as the recall the time. "Ever since then, you've been spacing out and acting, well, not like yourself. I thought the memories might've been why."

"I don't even know what 'acting like myself' is anymore."

Her brows draw closer together. "What do you mean by that?"

He looks at her almost like he's revealed a secret before he shakes his head. "You should go to sleep," he suggests, clearly dodging the question. "Both of us. Like you said, I have another test tomorrow." He won't say it outright, but she can tell that he wants to be left alone again. "Worry about yourself. I'll be fine, Mikasa."

"I don't believe you."

His gaze snaps from the floor to her face, following her as she rises to her feet. "I wish you could believe me when I say I'm here, for anything. You don't have to shut me out."

The features of his face soften and she doesn't wait for him to answer. She mumbles a 'good night,' blinking away the moisture that collects in her eyes as the click of the door echoes through the vacant halls.

* * *

The test is disastrous.

She catches the gist of what happened from a conversation between two fellow comrades and is furious with the Captain for ordering her to stay behind. What she could've done, she isn't sure but that isn't what truly matters. In the medical ward, she glances inside each room she passes until she sees Connie, who pushes himself off the wall when he spots her.

"Connie," she pants, a little winded from rushing across headquarters. "Is he in there?"

"Yeah," he looks at the door she's pointing at. "He's in there."

"What went wrong?"

Connie leans back against the wall. "He got really sick after he transformed a few times. As a titan, he seemed distressed and wasn't listening to what Hanji was telling him. Captain Levi cut him out after he collapsed and didn't emerge from the nape on his own."

She blinks rapidly, looking at their boots as she remembers when something similar happened during one of Hanji's tests years ago. She's struggling to calm her nerves but manages one last question.

"Can I go in?"

"I'm pretty sure you can. He might be sleeping though. I'm waiting for Hanji-san to come back, but I think it would be alright if you see him. S'not like she could tell you no anyways."

She smiles at her friend, his light-hearted comment bringing her panic down a notch.

She touches his shoulder. "Thank you, Connie." He half grins, nodding as she turns the knob and enters the room.

She winces upon seeing him. The signs of his transformation replace the bags beneath his eyes, but his face is hollowed, skin a sickly color. His lids slit open when the door shuts, head lolling over in her direction.

"Mikasa…" She drags a seat from the foot of the bed, places it at his side and sits.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," he breathes, sucking in more air. "Better than earlier." He lifts a hand to his grimacing face, pushing away the hair that catches on his lashes and sticks to his neck. Immediately, she gazes down at the hair tie secured around her wrist.

"Do you think you can sit up?"

"I don't - think so. Could you help me?"

"Of course."

She can't help but notice how weak his grip is on her arm as they work to sit him upright, how she has to steady him once they do. Leaning over, she turns his head away and gathers his hair into her hands, combing her nails over his scalp to pull it back properly before tying it neatly into a bun.

"Don't you need that? Your hair - it's getting longer again."

"It's alright. I think I'm going to cut it soon. Besides, doesn't it feel better having your hair out of your face?"

He sighs, amusement pulling his mouth into a slight curve. "Yeah."

"You should probably lay back down -"

"No," he waves her off nimbly, eyelids sliding shut. "I can lean against the headboard."

"That's -" in an afterthought, she swallows her words and relents. "... Okay."

Without asking, she pours him water from the pitcher at their side and holds it out, carefully passing it into his hands when he reaches for it.

"It happened again," he states after he drinks, passing the glass back to her.

"What happened again?"

"I failed. I lost my head, or maybe I just couldn't think straight. One minute I'm getting ready to transform again and the next, I'm here. I don't really remember what happened, but it's obvious that I messed up."

"I talked to Connie. He said you got distressed as a titan and collapsed after transforming a few times. Captain Levi pulled you from there when you didn't come out of the nape on your own."

He scoffs, bitter. "What a surprise. After all this time, I'm still unable to small things like following directions. I must be a joke."

She looks at him sadly. "Please, don't talk like that. It's not true."

"It is true," he insists. A cloud passes in front of the sun, darkening the room. "I'm sorry, but it is."

"You're trying your best." She places her hand on his forearm, squeezing. "This isn't something that just anyone can do. It was only one test, I'm sure you'll -"

"I lied, Mikasa."

She retracts at the small confession and the air between them goes still. He peers at her from the corners of his eyes, to her hand lying limp on his arm, and back to the sheets crumpled at his waist.

"I do remember what happened, at least before I blacked out. The man who had his power before me and my father… something terrible happened to his family when he was a child and it was all I could see and hear at a point during the experiment."

His fists clench and the muscles in his forearm flex beneath her palm. She's absolutely speechless when tears begin to well in his eyes.

"I tried so hard to ignore it, but it seems that I can't even control as something as fundamental as my own mind. It's too frustrating and I just keep screwing up."

A tear falls on the back of her hand. "Eren, stop."

"I don't know what to do and I feel like I'm letting everyone down -"

From her seat, she reaches forward to tug him to her, the force of her embrace making him grunt. At the sound, she becomes mindful of her grip and lessens it, her arms gingerly wrapping around his torso. When was the last time she hugged him, or anyone? Holding him like this is unfamiliar, and perhaps he thinks so too. His body is stiff against hers, making her think that he might be uncomfortable with her affectionate gesture. She nearly chastises herself for being impulsive and inconsiderate, but his arms begin to move, lifting higher and higher until they settle. His touch is soft, barely there. His hands rest on her back the way leaves do when they meet a surface of water; silent and gentle in nature, the contact rippling warmth from his body to hers.

"It's hard, I know. This is something new to all of us too. But you don't need to cope with it on your own." She leans into him more, his neck hot and feverish against her cheek. "You're not a screw-up, Eren. It just wasn't your day. You'll have an opportunity to try again. As for the memories… I think we should talk to Hanji or Armin about this. It might not happen right away, but we'll figure something out to help you control them," She anchors her hands on his shoulders and looks back at him, feeling his fingers run down the ridges of her spine with the motion. "Alright?"

Eren lifts a hand and wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Okay," he whispers, and she's hugging him again. He reciprocates it quicker this time, securing his arms more confidently around her. "Okay."

She's never seen him quite so shattered. Picking up the pieces of him comes with an occasional prick of her skin and sometimes she questions if she can really help fix him. But as they break apart, he begins muttering sentences and through them, she realizes that he's asking her to stay. Relieved of any doubt she could have at that moment, she agrees and sinks back into the chair, rays of sunlight flitting back into the room.

* * *

 **In this chapter, I touched on only a few symptoms of depression, such as cognitive, emotional, and behavioral. There are many things that could accompany depression, as it may vary from each person who suffers from it. Through Mikasa, I tried to show that this kind of behavior is not normal and how it can affect others who know someone that is depressed. This mental illness is too often romanticized on different media platforms and I knew I had to be careful with my portrayal of it. It is not uncommon for a person (or people) to be at a loss for what to do or how to help, but acknowledging the symptoms as soon as they appear is the first step in getting help. There's nothing wrong with asking for help and I strongly encourage it for any of my readers who may be struggling with depression. There are numerous resources available online for more information about this topic.**


	22. Just Like You

**Request from anonymous for Eren and Mikasa to gaze over their first child! Thank you so much for the request! This could be a continuation of chapter 20, "Baby's Breath." Or it could be a whole one-shot on its own :) Thanks to everyone who has favorited/followed this collection. And a very special thank you to those who have left reviews! They mean a lot to me, please keep them coming!**

* * *

With a sudden loss of warmth, he shivers and rolls over in search of her, fingers spanning and stretching over the empty space beside him until her voice sounds from the foot of their bed. Mikasa whispers soothingly, murmuring little nothings that mix with sputters and babbles alike. She had always been a lighter sleeper than him, but he wonders how she could hear their restless child and get up as if she hadn't gotten only a few hours of sleep this past week. And here he was, hardly having the energy open his eyes, much less the will. His admiration for her grows tremendously as does the urge to sink further into the pillow and let her gentle tune lull him to sleep. It isn't long, though, before she is interrupted by a few hics from the baby, the beginnings of a cry that make him stir.

The wooden rocking chair creaks as Mikasa stands and tries to calm their son, but soon his ears pick up the slight panic that seeps into her tone when the cry becomes louder. Worried, he ignores his fatigue and moves the blanket aside to help, cupping his small head with nimble fingers the second he is beside her. His thumb swipes lightly at a wet, rosy cheek as both hush and coddle the baby. Soon, the room is once again quiet and still, save for the eyes that blink away tears and peer up at them curiously.

"Thank you," she says, relieved.

"Yeah." He smooths his palm over the junction of her neck and shoulder, yawning. "I don't know how he can be wide awake at this hour." He pulls at the fastenings of the diaper, peeking inside. "He's clean."

The corner of her jaw presses into his knuckle as she leans onto his hand. "I think he gets this energy from you."

"Me?" he asks. "You kind of make it sound like it's a bad thing."

She wipes at the baby's nose with her sleeve. "I'm only half joking." _Half_ , he muses, nearly scoffing. "He's a baby, it's apparently normal for him to wake up in the middle of the night. But... when he gets older and starts doing things on his own, I bet he'll be just like you." They simultaneously sit on the mattress, staring at the boy in her lap.

"Like me how?"

She presses soft kisses to the baby's forehead when he reaches for her face, humming against his skin.

"Energetic."

"You said that already."

"Talkative."

"Okay," he says somewhat agreeably, letting her continue.

"Loud."

"...Well -"

"Impulsive."

"But -"

"Impatient," she adds casually, playing with the hands that curl around her fingers. He pulls a face, grumbles. "I'm going to bed -"

"Strong," she murmurs, running her hands over tiny forearms. "Brave… smart… caring." He turns at the shift in her words, rendered silent a the small smile she gives him. "And very handsome." She lets her gaze linger on him before dropping it down again, brushing away tufts of dark hair. "He already looks so much like you."

Though a part of him still thinks she's mostly teasing, his cheeks and ears color at her compliments, at the undertones of sincerity. He responds in the only way he knows how in moments like these, carefully maneuvering around the baby's head to take her cheeks into his palms and kiss her soundly, doing so almost three times over till stubby fingers are pushing insistently at his chin. He can't help a laugh, and neither can she as they pull away, chuckling at the seemingly possessive hold their son has on Mikasa, large green eyes watching his every move.

"Hey kid," he chides, taking him from Mikasa. He feigns assertiveness as he leans against the bed, holding him high up with his arms. "I saw her first." He exaggerates a frown with playful intent, but his facade breaks entirely when the boy returns his frown, and he sees what Mikasa was talking about.

"Holy shit," he mouths, looking at her. _You see?_ is what her expression says. Besides the shade of their eyes, he wasn't very convinced that he took much after him. But he had to admit, that little scowl _is_ reminiscent of his younger self.

"I can put him to bed." She offers through his awe, blinking heavily at them while rubbing at the dark crescents beneath her eyes.

"No," he says as he sits up, propping the baby up with his arm. "Sleep. I got him this time." He purposely pushes his mouth against hers again, grinning at the whine it pulls from below them. To his surprise, she doesn't protest in her usual fashion and practically collapses onto the mattress. He holds his laughter, not used to such a sight.

Taking Mikasa's place in the chair, he sits the boy on his lap, unsure of what he should do; he's looking everywhere _but_ at him. Trying to get his attention, he begins making dumb faces that hurt his cheeks, anticipating some kind of reaction but is met with a face as impassive as the woman sleeping in front of them.

"I see who you get your sense of humor from," he flatly notes. "Are you mad at me? Is it because I kissed her?" He bounces his legs lightly, watching as he plays with the strings hanging from the band of his pants. In one of his earliest memories, he recalls doing the same thing with Mom's apron, messing with the ties until it came loose. She had clicked her tongue but smiled, leaned down to tug fondly at his nose and had called him a little troublemaker. He smiles sadly at the memory of her, wishing she were here to guide him and Mikasa through all of this. She would probably tease the hell out of him, but he can picture her playing with her grandson, tickling and making the baby laugh like she did with him. With the image in mind, he wriggles his fingers along the soft skin covering the child's ribs, his breath becoming quicker and harsher in way Eren recognizes as excitement. When he does it again with sounds he didn't know he was capable of making, he earns a flail of chubby limbs and a toothless smile that have him beaming with adoration because he's never made him _laugh_.

He keeps up the affectionate, wordless banter till the baby yawns and lazily pats his bare collarbones, his energy spent. He rocks back and forth rhythmically as he hums Mikasa's song from earlier, the noise low in his throat. Eventually, his forehead leans against his shoulder, long eyelashes barely brushing the base of his neck. He presses his lips to a temple, savoring the moment before he wakes again in a few hours.

"Little troublemaker."

* * *

 **Names names names. I don't really know what name Eren and Mikasa would canonically choose if they had a child, so I think I'll leave it to your imagination!**


	23. Helping Hand

**Request from anon for Eren to return home to surprise Mikasa! WWII AU. Thanks for your request! Thank you for sending in this request 3 I'm always down for fluffiness especially after all this canon angst. I hope you like it!**

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An empty home and a few years have a way of wearing her down. Her daily routines quickly became monotonous without the vibrancy of his laughter, his presence; the letters that reach her weeks after they were written are hardly a remedy for her unease. It could never be the same as the taste of his kiss, hearing his voice or breathing in the scent of his clothes. But she takes comfort in the distinct shape of his words, barely legible yet they come together in small jokes and old memories, sometimes accompanied with poor doodles that make her and Armin smile. Until she reaches the final page of his letters and she remembers the loneliness that made its place within her, ever since the night Eren threw a bag over his shoulder and promised they'd meet again.

Her and Armin see each other often enough, though it never felt the same without their fiery counterpart. She knows he thinks so too when a hush falls between them and he squeezes her hand with a sad smile, reeling her back from the depths of her mind. Concerned, he encourages her to stop working long hours and try new things, perhaps make new friends to keep her company for the days he couldn't. And It was when the 'for sale' sign for the house not far from theirs was taken down that she had warily decided to take his advice. She'd been on her way home from the bookshop Armin's family owned when out of the rotting barn came Sasha, who enthusiastically introduced herself before she could. While this girl had been friendly enough, Mikasa learned early on in their friendship that this girl was quite a handful.

There's no predicting what will happen every time Sasha asks for help. She's never aided her with the same thing twice, each task being just as, if not more, strange as the last. To her own bemusement, she agrees every time, her appearance afterward making both Armin and Jean remind her that she needs to learn to say no. In all honesty, though, she doesn't mind it. Whether it's chasing her chickens back into the coup she left unlatched by accident or climbing a tree to get down some impossible object, it all becomes something to laugh about later. In spite of everything, she's grown quite fond of her, finding in Sasha a kind of free spirit Eren has.

But when she ties a cloth over her eyes, she's just a little more than skeptical and twice as worried.

"Relax Mikasa, I just need your help with something."

"How can I do that if I have something covering my eyes?" Sasha is silent for a second and she instantly regrets her question, sensing yet another one of her tasteless jokes.

"You'll _see_. Ha! Get it? See?"

"You're a terrible comedian."

"And you're terrible at putting faith in people."

"No, just you."

"Mikasa!" She doesn't fight the smile that tugs her mouth upwards or, oddly, the curiosity that grows with each step forward. What is this girl planning? She's never been that good of a liar, though she certainly has the element of surprise. She says she needs help but the blindfold indicates otherwise. In anticipation, she plays along.

"Am I going to have to fix something?

"Nope!"

"Is my dress going to get torn again?"

"C'mon, I sewed it back together as an apology. And just -" she breathes audibly through her nose. "Have patience, Mikasa. I promise it isn't anything bad."

She concedes with a sigh, letting her limp arms be guided until Sasha drops them. The air smells of hay and she thinks they're near the barn. Sasha calls for her, voice a bit distant but hardly lacking in its usual volume. She steps forward, positive she's inside some sort of enclosing and she thrusts her hands out instinctively, searching for a solid guide until her hands are back in another's, their palms rough and larger than Sasha's. Her fingers curl to feel the hand hers are in, trying to identify their owner. "Is this Jean?" Sasha chuckles nervously, making her eyebrows furrow in suspicion. Those hands slip from hers and Sasha is close again, clasping her shoulders.

"Okay, I need you to stand _right here_." The last couple words are prolonged as she's pulled a few more steps to the right, those hands from earlier (she's sure their Jean's with how clammy they feel) settling onto her shoulders and adjusting her in place. There's a rustling that goes on for a few moments too long and she squints through the cloth, futilely using whatever light coming in to help her see.

"Alright!" Sasha says with finality, "Are you ready Mikasa?"

"I don't know," she says, suddenly hesitant and a little dreadful.

"Oh, of course you are. Go on, take off the blindfold."

Her fingers tug at the ties for several seconds, and nothing seems to come undone. "What kind of knot did you tie?" she half complains. "I can't get it off." Those hands are back over hers, helping her until the inhibiting cloth comes loose and she feels thumbs swiping over her shoulder blades. Her eyes blink out the blinding sunlight coming from the window before they focus on Sasha, who is standing a few feet away, her palms pressing together against her smile. In the midst of her confusion, her shoulders are given a gentle squeeze and she turns with a frown.

Her eyes widen incredulously, welling with tears she has to blink away to make sure she isn't imagining things, imagining _him_. She doesn't really notice the camera flashing beside them as she takes a few steps back, shaking her head in disbelief. When she looks to Sasha, she nods at him, smiling as if she's saying _yes, he is really standing there_.

He's grinning a grin she's traced so many times, and with a small wave, he murmurs a single and wavering, "Hi."

Within the next second she's wrapped around him and vice versa, her whimpers overtaken by his laugh and the couple cheers around them. Her heart is beating so fast and she can hardly fathom what's happening but he's showering the very kisses she's longed for on her lips and tear-stained cheeks, pushing the little air her lungs have with the pressure of his hug. Another pair of arms encircle both her and Eren, the blonde hairs in her watery peripheral undoubtedly Armin's.

"It's good to have you home."

"It's good to be home buddy." His voice is deeper than she remembers, the sound rich as it fills the room, her ears. She feels embarrassed when he cups her face and pulls it from his neck, wondering just how awful she looks with swollen eyes and a ruddy nose. She doesn't mean to, but she cries harder looking him, relieved to find little damage besides the scar above his left brow. She reaches for it but he stops her, resting her hand back on his chest.

"Mikasa," he says and she closes her eyes, feeling his beating heart beneath her hand. "I missed you."

She swallows, trying to force out the words she's been wanting to say ever since he slung a bag over his shoulder and walked out of the life they started together. But her throat is too tight and she can only manage another choked noise before she grips him roughly, pulling him down until her arms are wound fondly around his neck. He grunts with the force of her embrace but relaxes, squeezing her back.

Her ears pick up Sasha's little sounds of joy and she turns to look at the girl, sniffling. "How…?"

She gestures to him. "Your boyfriend actually came here to talk to me."

Mikasa looks questioningly at Eren and he shrugs, wiping at her nose with a cloth he pulled from a pocket. "You told me about her in your letters, and I wanted to surprise you. She seemed like the kind of person who would help me."

"Of course I would! Mikasa is one of my best friends." Sasha pats her on the back, putting her hand on her own hip. "Wow Mikasa, I know you said he was handsome but you didn't do him justice." She nudges her teasingly with her elbow. "He's quite a catch."

Mikasa nearly rolls her eyes at Eren's smugness but holds back her giggle when Sasha mentions the face he pulled when she thought he was Jean.

"I should've taken a photo of that," Armin adds with regret, prompting Eren to whack him lightly on his arm. As Eren counters his teasing, she steps back and pulls her friend into a hug. Surprised, Sasha goes stiff but quickly eases up, acknowledging her wordless gratitude.

"Hey, Mikasa?"

"Hm?"

"Don't get mad… but I actually do need your help with something."


	24. Change

**I'm feeling rather sad and I dumped these feelings into a drabble. I wrote this in an hour and have only read over it once; sorry if there are mistakes**.

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They tell him that he's changed, and it isn't complimentary with the tone that carries their words. It's sad, like they're mourning the person he used to be and he supposes he understands why. Experiences, both his and of those before his time, have weakened his perception of himself. He stopped caring somewhere along the way, too preoccupied with bigger, much more important things to notice how it shaped him to be who he is now. There's a bitterness to him, he knows, and yet there's no point of helping it. He wishes he could apologize for it, but almost all his close friends have begun to distance themselves since they returned from Marley, leaving blame in their wake.

Except for her.

Her visits are limited and, a couple times, have been without permission. It's always around evening when she comes here (she is the only thing maintaining his perception of time), her shoulder leaning against the bars and his back against the adjacent wall. Each conversation is short, compromising of small inquiries about his sleep and appetite and vague descriptions of what's goes on in his absence. It doesn't take long for their voices to taper into to silence, and it's usually where she takes her leave. The exchange is hollow, distant, and it bothers him that their decade of friendship has come to this, pains him in a way he didn't know it could.

One night he dreams of her, sees her long lashes nearly cover her eyes when she laughs. It's breathy, almost soundless as she chases him and in his distraction, he trips over a root at the tree's base. Having no room or time to stop, she stumbles too, falling on top of him. The accident has them in a larger fit of giggles, and soon she's rolling onto her back, teasing him through heavy pants. When he opens his eyes again, she's on her feet, bending with an outstretched hand. Her hair reaches just below the shoulders of her dirtied cardigan, a tangled mess of silk that makes him want to laugh but he simply reciprocates her smile, reaching forward.

He wakes up before he grabs her hand, tears falling from his eyes.

The next time she comes to see him, he tells her about the dream, not from his usual spot from the wall or his bed, but against the bars where she is. Mikasa listens quietly, eyes focused at her feet and only looking up when he admits to crying. His eyes sting again as they gaze at one another, taking note of all the things that have changed not just about him, but her as well. She is shorter than him now, face and voice worn with exhaustion. A part of him wishes to see her with longer hair, but he thinks this new style suits her too, bangs framing her face as they always had. Her old scar peeks out from behind a piece of her hair, and he feels guilt at the new ones her hands gained from the most recent battle. Her tattoo isn't covered in bindings anymore either. He wonders if she, like their friends, has also changed the way she feels about him.

Both of their heads turn in the direction of a knock, the sound quick and harsh.

"I have to go," she whispers, and he hopes he isn't imagining the hint of regret. Instead of waiting for a response, she turns away and he doesn't realize he's reached for her, much like in his dream, until she stops, startled at the sudden touch. She's still as warm as he remembers.

"I…"

 _I miss when we were children._

 _I miss you._

He let's go.

"I'll see you."

Mikasa nods, reaching for the edge of her scarf. "I'll see you."

And then she's gone.


	25. Love If We Made It

**I love pining!Eren. Thank you for all the follows and favorites! Each new one makes me very happy :3**

 **Warning: tidbits of smut**

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Sometimes, during simpler moments, his mind drifts. He pauses to savor the calm, comfortable feeling he gets when he spends downtime with his friends and imagines that this is what it's like to be normal. They still train and attend meetings, but there isn't a weight in the air around them like before, not yet. He's beginning to forget what battle sounds like, and grows accustomed to birds chirping late in the morning when he does small chores the Captain has tasked him with, to the contagious peals of laughter during lunch, and the silent pass of the night. It's the taste of this domestic-like lifestyle that has him dreaming of another life, one that is much like the kind he used to lead as a child and when he wakes, something inside him twinges with disappointment.

And in the mornings following some of those nights, he finds himself looking after Mikasa when she walks past him, curious as he remembers some of the details of his dream.

Everyone he's ever been close to has been in his dreams at least once, but she appears in almost all of them and they are often more than close friends. He knows only the basic concept of intimacy, and finds it in their linked hands and embraces, other times in the press of his mouth against hers and the gentle pressure of her legs around his waist. He's never thought of anyone like that and he questions why such a thing comes to life in his dreams, why it manifests into her. Though, to his bemusement, nothing about it feels wrong and he frequently finds himself gazing at her, tracing the curve of her waist and lips with his eyes, wondering what they'd really feel like against his mouth. These thoughts only feed into his subconscious and one night he wakes with a thin layer of sweat coating his hairline and temples. With an arm thrown over his eyes, he recounts her gasp as he bit her shoulder, her moan when he pushed deeper inside her, and the tender shape of her smile the moment he whispered he loved her.

"I have these dreams sometimes," he says with careful words, hoping Armin won't question his vagueness, "and I don't know what's brought them on..."

"What happens in them?"

His breath seizes and he leans his cheek against his palm, displeased to discover that his face is warm, taking away any subtlety he's tried to manage thus far. "It's, uh, hard to explain."

His answer is rushed, half-assed and he is anxious when Armin peers at him over the binding of his book. But then he looks back down, his answer simple: "Maybe your brain is trying to tell you something."

When he and Mikasa sit alone together, he dares to think back to _that_ dream. He notes the rise and fall of her chest as she sews and imagines undoing the buttons fastened there, wonders if her heart would beat fast beneath his tongue, if her skin of her neck and legs are as soft as they look and perhaps Armin is right. He wishes he could tell her he loves her, show her he does because he knows it would be beautiful if she'd let him. But it's dangerous. The risk of losing one another in the upcoming war, his curse, their responsibility; it makes him feel foolish for having gotten too comfortable in the respite from war, for having fallen for her during. Yet he is pulled back by her voice, the cool feeling of her palm against his forehead as she checks if he has a fever.

"You're acting strange. Is everything alright?"

Oh, if only she knew his turmoil. It suddenly occurs to him that it would be so easy for him to lean in, to give in to impulse. Someday he swears he might. But for now, he nods his head, letting his mind continue to drift to realms of impossibility, picturing a future with the girl he's sure he'll never really have.


	26. Practice

**Happy Eremika Week! I choose the prompt "First Time" for today :) This follows the previous chapter, Love If We Made It. I hope you like it! Also, huge thanks to maesde for leaving a comment! c:**

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The first time he kisses her, both of them shrouded by tall trees and foliage alike, it is unexpected.

It began with the simple choice: help Eren with sparring, or start the list of chores the Captain prepared. Between the two, she much rather preferred the former and was pleasantly surprised that he asked for her help at all. Before Captain Levi could find them, they had walked past the wall of pines just east of headquarters and into a clearing that they decided to use for sparing that late morning. Practicing close combat privately was easier for him apparently, as it minimized distractions and chances of accidentally colliding into and hurting the other pairs who were practicing. She understood in turn, willing to help him any way she could and thankful to be inhaling fresh air instead of pungent cleaning products.

Both of them hadn't been practicing for very long and she could already see just how much improvement he's made since the last time they did this. His swings and kicks are more precise now, and carried power that came from concentration rather than frustrated impulse. He used to get so upset when he couldn't land a single hit and it lapsed his judgment, making him sloppier. But now she's surprised by the amount of effort on her part to predict his movements, tells him she's proud of how far he's come since their cadet days.

"Thanks. Maybe one day I can be as good as you," he half-jokes, assuming his fighting stance again.

"You're already better than most people I've fought. But there's always room for improvement."

He considers that, dropping his hands. "Where do you think I need improvement?"

At his question, she also drops her arms, looking over him thoughtfully. "Maybe speed. More so when you're on offense. That was something I needed to work on back then. It just boils down to practice."

"How did you do it?"

"I held weights while practicing. Attaching some to my ankles helped too. Once you do that with weights and then without them, you'll see how much faster you get and how much lighter you'll feel."

He listens attentively, nodding. "I see. That might also help if I'm tossing my opponent over my shoulder, like you do. I've only done it a few times, but I usually almost end up straining something," he admits, cupping the back of his neck.

"Do you want to practice that next?"

He visibly tenses as he meets her eyes. "Practice… tossing? I, uh, I don't know."

Concerned, she frowns. "Why do you look worried?"

"Cause I don't know how to do that properly yet." The tip of his shoe nudges a couple of stones, flipping them. "I don't want you landing weird and injuring something."

"You won't hurt me."

She suddenly feels his gaze on her right cheek, and this time it's her who's gone stiff. "You don't know that."

"I do," she states as a matter of fact, turning away intentionally. "I'll show you step by step first, and then you can try, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, she begins to shrug off her jacket and drops it to the side, facing him again and stepping closer as a way of insistence. Despite his obvious reluctance, he mimics her actions, tossing aside his jacket and wiping the sweat collecting at his hairline. She begins showing him a basic way of tossing an opponent, one that she's rarely used but works if the other person isn't very skilled in combat. From there they work on timing and even more complex methods, practicing each step slowly before she was positive that he's got them down at this pace.

"Okay, now you try it on me. Remember, you have to work fast so you don't end up shouldering your opponent's full weight."

He fists his hands and relaxes them, taking a breath. "I'll try my best."

She moves without warning, throwing lighter punches and kicks for him to block until he takes advantage of the opening she's giving to him. With his grip tight on her wrist, she's pulled forward with more strength than she expects and, caught off guard, is tossed to the ground before she can break her fall. A cross between a grunt and a cough breaks free from her and it takes quite a bit of convincing to assure him that she's fine, that he can try again. Though Eren gains a more confidence each round, what she didn't consider beforehand was the toll that it would take on her. After being flipped numerous times, she began to feel dizzy and nauseous, the sensation nearing an unbearable point but she decided to hold off saying something, mainly for his sake. That was until he had her on the ground again, pausing long enough to notice that something was off.

"Are you okay, Mikasa?"

She was sweating more than usual, hair sticking to her neck and different parts of her face and is a bit dismayed that she can't open her eyes right away. She puts her hand up to placate him.

"Yes… I just -" she drops the hand on his forearm without meaning to, sucking in air, "need a minute."

The next few moments are spent focusing on her breathing, leveling it out to ease her nausea. It isn't until she opens her eyes that she realizes he never moved from his place above her, and both simply stare, breaths audible yet slow and she's unsure of what to make of the look on his face. Until then it nears hers, his fingers gently pushing the strands sticking to her mouth aside, grazing her lips in the process. At the intimate touch, she becomes lightheaded again, the pain in her stomach quickly devolving into a flutter. He looks at her lips tentatively, his own forming an indecisive grimace and she watches him, captivated by curiosity and the strange tension between them. When the hand at the corner of her mouth moves to cup the base of her head and the ends of his hair starts tickling her skin, she doesn't doubt his intention, feels herself blushing brightly in comparison to the tinge of color on his face. But he makes a point to stop, looking at her questioningly and giving her the chance to pull away. In a clouded mix of attraction and anticipation, she squeezes his forearm in response and flicks her gaze from _his_ eyes to his lips and back, noting how the color on his face spreads across the bridge of his nose.

"Mikasa," he murmurs, "close your eyes."

She does so, barely taking a second to wonder _why_ , to remember how inexperienced and unprepared she is before his nose is flush against the apple of her cheek and he is kissing her in full. Her fingers curl around his forearm again and her eyes close tighter, Eren's lips on hers an odd yet pleasant sensation that makes her skin hotter and nerves frenzied. He sighs the syllables of her name against her mouth, parting for the briefest of seconds to lean on the arm beside her head and kiss her better. The _whys_ and _whats_ are lost to her, irrelevant, because like earlier, she can feel his confidence grow as well as her own with each gentle movement of lips and hands. She's almost embarrassed by the sounds they're making, but his nails lightly raking over her scalp causes her skin to prickle with goosebumps, her hand traveling up and over the muscle in his arm till her palm is at the bulging tendon on the side of his neck. She couldn't be any less aware of their surroundings, merely craving more of this kind of attention that she's wanted for a long time. And although the way he deepens his kiss tells her that she isn't alone in that feeling, reality had already found its way to reel them back in.

It's him who breaks the kiss when he hears something that her ears don't catch at first, both soon recognizing it as shouts of squad leaders and noises that could only belong to the maneuvering gear.

"Shit."

Their eyes meet and, in a slight panic, make a mutual decision. Eren stands to his full height, sheepish as he pulls her up and she immediately goes to smooth down her hair, walking over to retrieve her jacket and hating how much her hands are shaking. Talking to him about this proves to be daunting on her end, especially with how abrupt and somewhat awkward it had ended. Everything is burning - her lips, her face, her stomach and perhaps it's best to talk about it when she isn't as raw or embarrassed, but then he speaks up.

"Hey, um, thanks. For helping me today."

Tucking a tangled lock of hair behind her ear, she gives him the most genuine smile she can manage at the moment. "Of course."

After a stretch of silence, she thinks it okay to start walking back and he jogs to catch up and match her pace. Halfway back to headquarters, she senses his eyes on her and finds them shamelessly trained on her mouth when she faces him. A flicker of desire threatens to ignite a flame that's destined to consume her, and she struggles to keep her voice neutral and cool when she asks, "What is it?"

"Your lips," he starts, reaching over to swipe a rough thumb over her bottom one. "They're so soft."


	27. Fire and Guitars

**This was for Eremika Week day 2, and it's kinda along the lines of Vows/Proposal/Promises? Maybe? I hope? Anyway, I always adored little EM entertaining the thought of marriage, hence this :) Thank you to all those who favorited/followed my collection!**

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"Did you have fun?"

His shoulders shrug, hands tugging at the bow tie tucked neatly beneath his collar. "In the beginning, no. The priest dude talked forever , I almost fell asleep. I don't know why grown-ups get so excited about these things. And why I had to put - this - dumb - ugh." His hands fall limp and defeated onto his lap, the bow still tied at the base of his neck. She prompts him to face her, attempting to undo the knot herself.

"But it was good after that?"

"Yeah," he admits. "The part with the cake and music was good. Especially the cake. I wish you could've come with me. I probably would not have been so bored."

When she finally loosens the silk, he sighs and slumps back against the porch swing in relief, thanking her as he pockets it.

"I've never been to a wedding before. But I wanna go to one."

"If you do, I'll ask if I can go with you. It'll be more fun that way."

She smiles at that, swinging her legs back and forth. "I'd like that."

Resting his hands behind his head, he leans back, the swing gaining more momentum at his movement. They sit quietly for some time, listening to the crickets and whine of the chains holding the seat as it moves. But being the restless boy he is, he eventually sits back up and turns to her, suddenly giddy.

"When I have my own wedding, it's going to be so cool," he beams, telling her all about the confetti, fire, and guitars, insisting that it'll be the best wedding anyone has ever been to. She tries to envision his words, thinking it so like him to want such whimsical things during a "special occasion," as her mother had called it. Though it true she's never been to one, she's seen plenty of them in movies and has looked at pictures from the one her parents had, certain that they are not supposed to go the way he wants. But she doesn't dare burst his bubble, entertaining it even, until a question prods her mind.

"Do you know who you're going to marry?"

He stops in the middle of wailing an imaginary guitar, tilting his head at her. "Huh?"

"You're talking about all this stuff, but what about the bride? You can't have a wedding without one, and she might not want those things at your wedding."

"I mean... you're cool with it, no?"

She retracts slightly, confused. "Me?"

"Well, yeah," he shrugs. "Even though I was bored out of my mind at first, I heard my brother say that his wife is his best friend. Me and you are best friends, so doesn't that mean that we'll get married one day?"

She stares at Eren, trying to understand this logic. When he puts it that way… isn't it true? If you marry someone, you must really like that person and want to live and be with them. She likes hanging out with him, and they already live next door to each other, so…? _Maybe he is right_ , she thinks, settling back.

"I guess so."

"Then do you not want all of the stuff I told you about?"

Fire and guitars are not something she thought would be at a wedding, but she can see how happy it makes him and doesn't think it so strange to have those things. 'Different is good,' she recalls someone saying, and she offers Eren a reassuring smile.

"I do."

His eyebrows raise, surprised at her answer for some reason. "Really?"

She nods, swinging her legs again. "You're right; it'll be the coolest wedding ever."


	28. Frostbite

**I wrote this a week or so ago, and forgot to put this here ;;; Drabble. Because it's getting cold where I am at.**

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She stretches and curls her fingers, uncomfortable with how stiff they've become. The transition from fall to winter has always been unkind in that way, making it harder to chase the chill from her bones and avoid that the cold everyone has been catching. The skin around her knuckles is especially sensitive, roughening with the bitter wind and cracking when she trains with a punching bag. When they bleed, it's Eren who takes the roll of bandaging she uses for her wrist to wrap around her hands, reminding her that she ought to take better care of herself. She knows she should, she does. But she's too shy to admit that she enjoys his attentiveness, even if it lasts half a moment. She gives thanks with a smile reserved only for him and he returns it, squeezing her hand before they part.

Though the cloth helps keep her skin intact, it does little to fend off the cold, the sleeves of her sweater worn and stretched from pulling them over her hands so often. It's because of this that he surprises her one day in the midst of winter, cradling a pair of black gloves in his palms upon returning from the inner wall.

' _Give me your hands_ ' is the first thing he says as he sits next to her, resting his coat in his lap and taking her hands, slipping on each glove. The inside feels fuzzy, soft, _expensive_ , and immediately she asks how much he spent on them.

He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."

"Eren," she begins, but he hushes her.

"Stop, it's okay." She breathes out through her nose, hands going limp in defeat. She's not in a mood to scold him, and about this of all things. He brings her little things every now and then, and while she doesn't think she's worth spending the money on, she appreciates it very much, savors the blossom of warmth each gesture brings.

"Do they fit alright?"

She smiles fondly at her gloved hands, wanting to twine them with his, wondering if he'd mind. "Mm. Thank you."

Like every gift she receives, she treats the gloves with special care every time she puts them on, amazed just how insulated they are and she doesn't think her hands have ever been so warm, especially around this time of the year.

Slowly but surely, the slits and cracks around her knuckles heal.

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 **With the lack of feedback and other disappointing things, I am reminded of why I left this site two years ago. As of now, I am not sure if I want to continue updating this collection on here. If you're reading this by some chance, thank you so much for keeping up with this collection (if you have). If you've ever left a comment that was about my stories/followed/favorited this collection, thank you so much. It really made me happy seeing that.**

 **Right now I am discouraged, wondering if I have an audience here at all. For now, I'm going to keep updating this collection on AO3, just until I've decided what I'll do with it here (whether to keep going, to just let it sit, or to delete it entirely). I'm sorry if this is whiny or bitchy. But I don't wanna ghost without giving the reason why, like last time.**


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